


To Burst and Bleed with Intention

by angweasley



Series: Fragmented Love [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Acceptance, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family, Fear, Forgiveness, Parenthood, Psychological Trauma, Reconciliation, Regret, Sequel, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:54:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 76,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21983980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angweasley/pseuds/angweasley
Summary: In order to do what was best for her, Hermione made a drastic life change so she could break free from Harry's obsessive and baneful grasp. What she did not expect was for her last run in with him to result in such a profound consequence, one that might bring her right back into his orbit.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Series: Fragmented Love [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1582405
Comments: 196
Kudos: 244





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, we're officially doing this! Here's the first chapter of the follow up story to Forgive a Stone Heart. This fic won't be as difficult to read or unhappy as its predecessor, and Harry isn't SO God awful (or at least I hope he's not and I hope it's a little easier on the emotions). With that said, for those who didn't read the first story, know that Harry is damaged. He's a hurt mess who hurt others so be aware. 
> 
> Additionally, this fic addresses the redemption question that was posed at the end of Stone by quite a few people.

The stick had not been enough for Hermione from the beginning. She wanted confirmation from multiple sources to support the validity of the situation so she got liquid as well. Her distrust of the stick only grew when it gave a result with which she did not agree so she turned to the liquid, the potion, to give her the specific answer she sought. The potion seemed remarkably more reliable anyway because it called for blood, a steadfast determinant in unearthing important, possibly life changing conditions. No, a single stick was not enough for a pragmatic mind like Hermione's.

Thus, the Muggle pregnancy test she had bought, the _stick_ , lay on her kitchen's small island wrapped in a paper towel, dismissed, while she stared intently at a clear glass that was clutched in her hands. The glass was full of a wizarding pregnancy potion, the liquid, and she had to wait 30 seconds before it gave her a result. The color would settle into a rose pink if she were not pregnant and a gold if she were, and Hermione desperately wanted to see pink.

She couldn't see gold. She just couldn't. She had seen double lines on the stick, yes, but that is why she turned to the potion. It wouldn't let her down. It would be pink and she could stop being concerned, could stop fretting. The witch did not even know why she assumed pregnancy could be the issue since all of her symptoms, the ones that pushed her to get these tests, could be explained by other means. The pink liquid would mean that her increased trips to the bathroom were due to a bladder problem she needed to have looked at. It would mean her fatigue that never seemed to wane was due to emotional strain from all the changes that had occurred in her life. It would mean that her irregular menstrual cycle- the spotting last month and missed period this month- was due to significant stress and nothing else. The stress and fatigue would also explain why her appetite was inconsistent in the past couple weeks.

The substantial, sudden shifts in Hermione's life in the past ten weeks or so were the causes for her symptoms and the potion would prove that. It would be pink and allow her to carry on with her new life and mold it how she saw fit.

So when she saw the liquid's color swirl and change, and she held her breath in anticipation of the pink she _needed_ to see, she felt a jagged sense of betrayal when an alluring shade of gold filled the glass. Betrayal and terror, as terror is what caused the glass to drop from her hands and crash to the floor, sending all of the gold to rush in various directions.

Hermione immediately had trouble breathing. Her eyes were blown wide, she began making gasping noises, and her hands, which still mocked the position of holding something, started to tremble.

Gold. The potion turned gold.

Double lines and gold liquid.

Both the Muggle and wizard test indicated that she was, she was….

Hermione let out a tortured wail and sunk to the floor. Her gasps transformed to wheezes and she closed her eyes in an attempt to not succumb to total panic, although it may have been futile.

Pregnant. Pregnant at 20 years old. Pregnant and unmarried at 20 years old… and alone.

She had _never_ envisioned this for herself under any circumstance. It had been strenuous enough that she'd needed to leave her home in order to preserve her sanity and sense of self less than three months ago, and she was still far reconciling that fact! But now, now _this_? Deserting her home had not been hellish enough?! Hermione had been dubbed the Brightest Witch of Her Age and this is where she was? Unexpectedly pregnant after having fled her home? Discovering that she was meant to have a baby while on her own in a different country? This is where life had led the great Hermione Granger, ladies and gentlemen! One of a kind potential cruelly snatched away to be replaced with hardship and heartache.

The brunette let out a raucous sob and covered her mouth with her hands as water filled her eyes. Dear lord, she was _pregnant_ … she'd only been gone from England for eight weeks and this is what she faced her now.

A cry left Hermione as her head dropped forward and the tears began to fall. Why? Why had she been suffering for over a year? Had she done something in her life to deserve it earlier on? Did helping to take down an evil maniac mean nothing to karma? Pregnant! Adjusting to a new country and leaving behind her entire support system had just been overshadowed by impending motherhood. She cried harder at the thought of her social support: of her parents, of Ron, the Weasleys, Neville, Luna… she missed them all constantly. Hermione spoke to Simon and Darla Granger at least twice a week but it was no substitute for being with them.

And what would they all think, what would they say? How would her parents respond to news of a pregnancy? How would her friends react to the knowledge that she was expecting? _Especially_ knowing who the father was.

Hermione's heart stuttered wildly at this thought and she gasped again. Above all else, she had avoided thinking of this particular aspect of the possible (now probable) pregnancy because there was no doubt in her mind who it was. Only one person on Earth could be the father and _he_ was the reason she had left Britain.

Most people would likely assume him to be her ex-boyfriend, Troy Heathcliffe, as public knowledge had last linked her to the former Ravenclaw. But the public did not know that Hermione's and Troy's relationship had not progressed past oral sex when she forcefully ended it thanks to his infidelity, so it was impossible for him to be the father. The public also did not know that she'd had a temperamental sexual relationship with Harry Potter, the culmination of which came when he manipulated her into sex one evening after her breakup from Troy, under the guise of support and remorse. And the public surely did not know that out of the numerous mistakes that were made that night, borne from pure distress on Hermione's part, the most glaring, now, was that no form of contraception, magical or Muggle, had been consumed, cast, or used. (Her mind had been plagued with sorrow at the time; the last thing on it was to remember a sensible form of birth control).

Her parents and Ron, however, knew of her last dalliance with Harry and would undoubtedly realize he was the father. But, God- what would they have to _say_ about it? Both her father and Ron were irate with Harry and had expressed a desire to inflict bodily harm on him for the plentiful, awful things he did to her. For them to know that he, of all people, had impregnated her? Unthinkable.

And so here Hermione was, eight weeks after departing England, sobbing on the floor of her Canadian apartment, having just discovered she was pregnant with the child of the man from whom she'd had to escape.

She had run from Harry's influence only to find out that she was pregnant with the man's baby.

Acidic bile suddenly rose up her throat and she scrambled on her knees to reach her trash can. The witch gripped the receptacle around the edge and stuck her face inside right as vomit came spewing past her lips. Hermione heaved and panted until she had nothing left but a harsh, burning taste left in her larynx and mouth, and she plopped down on her rear after a final gulp. Had that reaction come from shock or the child forming in her womb? Vomiting was a common thing during pregnancy, was it not? More tears welled in the witch's eyes.

Hermione pushed the can away from her as though it had offended her and dropped her head onto her forearms. Her nose was clogging up from the weeping. How could this happen? How could her life take yet another horrendous turn? How could this time with Harry, the last time, the time she had been most reluctant in which to engage, have resulted in conception? She would _never_ forget that evening nor anything about it for as long as she lived, and that included the climax he had. His groans. How entirely satisfied he sounded, how tightly he held her to him as he thrust up into her body and let go. And why should she forget? At the time it was because Harry had used her strictly for his pleasure, all while knowing his deplorable deed of ruining her relationship. Now she would never forget it because that had been the moment in which he knocked her up.

It was all a cosmic joke.

Hermione sat huddled for 15 minutes, shivering, before her head slowly rose. She had to do something. She needed a plan. That is what she did- she researched and she made plans because she was Hermione Granger. The implication was that she was pregnant so what was she going to do now? The brunette immediately thought that she wanted to speak to her mother but, before she did that, she decided that she needed _irrefutable_ proof that she really was… that this really was the state of things.

The hospital. She could go to the (wizarding) hospital and get tested by a Healer. She lived about 20 minutes outside of Calgary but she went into the city most days of the week because it was the largest hub of Alberta's wizarding population and that is where she worked. Yes… she could go to the hospital and get it confirmed once and for all by a professional. Hermione took in a shaky inhale of breath, knowing that is what she would do and feeling marginally better. There was still a chance, no matter how slim, that her home tests were wrong and she was _not_ pregnant. She had to cling to that chance because the consequences of the reality she feared were simply too much for her to bear at the moment.

Hermione got to her feet, albeit unsteadily, and peered around the cozy kitchen before sniffling and reaching for her wand which sat next to the towel wrapped stick. She obstinately ignored it and murmured under her breath as she gestured with her wand; the potion vanished, the glass repaired itself, and the vomit was cleared from the garbage bin.

Today was Sunday. She would go get checked on Wednesday morning before work and start her shift a bit later. She would ignore the terror that clawed at her insides like a trapped animal until she had her visit to the Healer. And when she spoke to her parents on the phone in about 90 minutes, she would mask the wave of emotion she felt and pretend that her life in Canada was getting off to a promising start.

* * *

Hermione was nervous as she sat on the exam table, fiddling with her fingers and glancing at the female Healer looking over a few instruments. Wednesday had arrived and she kept her vow to visit the hospital for a third and ultimate determination. The first two days of the week had been strange and she remembered very little of them as they passed through her mental fog with little effect. She had anticipated _this_ day since Sunday so everything else had been of no consequence.

"Ms. Granger. It is such a pleasure to meet you," the other woman greeted with a pleased smile, "Imagine my surprise when I saw your name on my patient roster!"

While her fame was not as pronounced as it was in the UK or even Europe, Hermione's role in the war had reached North America and she had encountered some recognition and praise since being in Canada. The brunette gave a tepid smile.

"Imagine my surprise at having to make such an appointment," she noted, chuckling but feeling no mirth.

"Ah. Unplanned, then?"

"Completely. I haven't been in Alberta long and it was the furthest thing from my mind when I was still in England. I didn't even consider that it could be a possibility until… until recently. "

"Have you taken a pregnancy potion?" the Healer inquired.

"Yes, and a Muggle test." Hermione shared.

"The same result for both?"

"Yes. Positive." She practically whispered this statement and the older witch glanced at her.

"And you wanted to be sure so you scheduled this appointment," the Healer surmised, compassion lacing her voice.

"Yes."

"A very natural response, Ms. Granger. We'll know the outcome in no time! Now then- tell me what symptoms you've been having."

"Well, I-I've been tired. Often. I... my cycle hasn't come this month, yet, and it was… was barely there last month. I've also been making a lot more trips to the loo. Er, washroom," explained Hermione.

"Any appetite changes?" the Healer pondered. She stuck her wand into some machine before pulling it out and it came back attached to a tether of some sort.

"It fluctuates. I-It hasn't been constant."

"Fatigue, irregular menstruation, increased urination, and a wavering appetite. How long have these symptoms been present?"

"I've noticed them for a few weeks now." Hermione reported.

"Mmm," the Healer uttered before handing her a small test tube, "Drink this, dear." The Muggleborn eyed the cloudy liquid in a wary manner but did as instructed, only to discover that it was tasteless.

"Have you noticed physical changes to your body?" the older woman inquired. For some reason, Hermione's eyes filled with tears at this query.

"My… my breasts have changed a bit," she admitted.

"Have they gotten bigger? More sensitive?"

The tears multiplied and threatened to spill over as she nodded. She'd had no explanation for _this_ physical change as she had the other symptoms and so steadfastly ignored it. The Healer peered at Hermione woefully since her distress was apparent but she seemed to be out of questions for the time being. She had very little doubt that the young witch before her _was_ pregnant based on the symptoms that were identified and based on her experience as a maternity Healer. However, due to how upset the foreign witch appeared, she would not offer her opinion and simply let the test do the talking.

"The test is very simple. I cast a diagnostic spell and wave my wand over your lower abdomen. The potion you drank allows us to determine whether or not your uterus is occupied and the result will be printed on a thin sheet of paper, which will come out here," the Healer explained, pointing to a small slot in the machine. Hermione nodded repeatedly and then asked:

"H-How long will it take?"

"No more than one minute."

"Oh."

"Are you ready?" the Healer inquired. Hermione looked fearful but nodded again and the older woman started gently waving her wand over her stomach not even a second later.

"What's your line of work, Ms. Granger?" the Healer posed in a kind voice, hoping to distract her charge.

"Research. Research and law," came the answer.

"Was that what you did in England?"

"Yes, mostly."

"How have you found Canada so far?" the Healer wondered.

"It's nice," Hermione shared, flashing a diminutive smile, "Though I'm still finding friends to make. I've got a neighbor called Debbie whom I like."

"Yes, that can take some time. Have you had friends from home come to visit you yet?"

There was a pause full of tension before Hermione spoke.

"N-No, not yet. I've not got around to it…" she mentioned.

In the following moments there was a high pitched trill that made the brunette peer at the machine in alarm. Consequently, the Healer pulled her wand away from her middle as a slim piece of paper came tumbling out of the machine. The Healer reached for it and Hermione's heart began pounding like a drum while she watched the older witch take in the findings. Her face was impassive but there was a gleam of sensitivity when she looked up and met Hermione's gaze.

"Well, dear, you are most certainly pregnant," the Healer revealed. She normally infused more happiness into her voice and countenance when delivering this news but the younger woman looked nothing other than stricken at her words. Although her mouth was hanging open, Hermione could not stammer out a reply or make any corresponding noise whatsoever so the Healer pressed on.

"You're ten weeks along, almost exactly. It gives a general assessment of the baby's health and yours looks to be well in order, but it's a very preliminary assessment so you'll need to make a follow up appointment that is more thorough. You'll need monthly follow up appointments, actually, if your plan is to follow through with the pregnancy."

Hermione felt like she was back in her kitchen and reliving the moment(s) of three days ago. Pregnant. PREGNANT. There was absolutely no denying it now. Two months had passed and she had been completely unaware that there was a _person_ developing inside of her. She had been pregnant for two and a half months, longer than she had been in Canada, and not known. Hermione's first trimester would be over in two more weeks; she was almost one third of the way done!

Her life had just drastically changed course.

"S-So it's… so it's true, t-then," she choked out.

"Yes. Your home tests were accurate," the Healer noted, sounding sympathetic. A tearful sounding laugh slipped of Hermione before she covered her mouth with her hands.

"Do you need a few moments, Ms. Granger?" the other woman pondered.

"No. No!," the Muggleborn negated, looking up with a smile but with tears in her eyes, "I-I just need to know what happens now?"

The question had more than one meaning, the Healer knew, and her heart swelled for her patient.

"We schedule monthly check ups until the last six weeks, which then happen every two weeks. Of course, if you chose to end the pregnancy, then we discuss those options once you've made that decision," she reported. It was silent for quite some time as the Healer gazed at Hermione and Hermione stared at the floor, partially dazed.

"Thank you. Thank you for your help," she said at last as she raised her head.

"Whatever you choose, I will be happy to help you again," the Healer commented in a motherly tone.

The feeling of being dazed only intensified as Hermione left the hospital. She _knew_ the confirmation of pregnancy had been an enormous possibility but to have it declared in certainty, to have nowhere else to hide from it, was overstimulating. There was a rush of thoughts, images, and feelings that crowded Hermione's brain all at once and became overwhelming, so much so that it caused her to take a dizzying breath in before her eyes rolled back and she fainted in the hospital's entryway. She never heard the multiple cries of concern at her falling body.

When Hermione came to again, it was ten minutes later and she was lying down on a gurney in a different room of the hospital than she had been for her appointment. The Healer hovering near her, conversely, was the same.

"Ms. Granger, how do you feel?" the older witch posed when she noticed that the Muggleborn was conscious.

"What, what happened?" she inquired, sitting up.

"You fainted, dear. Fell out right as you were about to leave the hospital."

Hermione flushed in embarrassment and surprise as she gaped at the Healer. The last thing she remembered was the intensity of her emotions as she neared the entryway of the hospital.

"It was from shock. After we checked to make sure you did not sustain any injury, I magically reawakened you. You're fine, and so is the baby," came the explanation.

Hermione's head throbbed and she nearly sobbed again at the last word spoken but the Healer placed something into her hands and said:

"A calming elixir. I want you to take it. This… this news seems to be a lot for you to process so it will help."

The brunette gazed blankly at the compact beaker for a long moment before putting it to her lips and drinking.

"I'm going to send you home with a full batch of calming elixir _and_ authorization to miss work today and tomorrow," the Healer reported, "How does that sound?"

"Good," whispered Hermione. She was aware that she was in no state to go to work and that the brief time off was much needed.

"Perfect. I'll go tend to those right now. Rest here until I come back."

The Healer then moved to leave the room and got to the door before she turned around and voiced something more.

"I _do_ hope that you have the support of loved ones back in England that can help you decide what is best for you, Ms. Granger. You should not have to be alone for something like this."

Hermione found herself fighting off yet another fresh surge of tears as she watched the other witch disappear through the door and shut it with a soft click.

Hermione remained in bed for the remainder of Wednesday. She mostly slept but she also cried off and on when the calming elixir she consumed at the hospital wore off. When the weeping became cumbersome in the evening, she took another dose; after that, she attempted to process and accept the fact that she was pregnant. (Consequently, she was not yet able to fully sit with the knowledge that it was Harry's child so she merely focused on the baby itself and not the father). On Thursday, Hermione stayed out of bed but aimlessly roamed her apartment and ruminated over how precisely she was going to tell her parents about her new reality. She was terrified of this prospect and of her father's reaction in particular. In her panicked state, the witch could only envision condemnation and crushing disappointment from her mother and father when she told them, although the distant, rational part of her knew they would not rebuff her in this way.

Hermione got to see her neighbor Debbie on Thursday evening and it only took 15 minutes for the truth to come out. It then took one minute following the revelation for her to start crying and it took two and a half hours for them to have a full circle conversation about it. Debbie knew about Hermione's exodus from England to get away from her toxic best friend turned lover and, while she was not overly stunned to learn that it was _his_ baby, she was sad and angry for her friend of two months. Before Debbie left the unit for her own that night, she advised the brunette to discuss the situation with her parents and go home if possible before making a decision about what to do with the pregnancy.

"As terrible and unwanted as you may find the situation, that doesn't mean you'll have those same feelings for your child," the Canadian woman declared.

Her child. Hers. _Her_ baby. It was a captivating notion: claiming possession of the developing person inside of her and being able to do so in a welcoming manner. It was the first time Hermione had considered the baby for what it was and what it could be, and not how it had been conceived under unsavory circumstances or at such an inopportune time in her life. Speaking to Debbie had been immensely helpful for Hermione and given her the extra boost she needed to speak to her parents and not allow anxiety to avoid it. She worked half days on Friday which permitted her to be home in the early afternoon to call the Granger residence at a reasonable time, as there was a seven hour time difference. She apprehensively clenched the phone in her hand while she settled on the sofa and listened to the rings on the other end.

Darla Granger answered and her daughter was relieved. It was going to be much easier broaching such a momentous topic by starting with her mother, who was more level with her emotions than her father.

"Tell me how your week was, sweet." Darla directed after a few minutes of pleasant chit chat.

"Tell me how _yours_ was." Hermione responded, hoping to delay for just a bit longer.

"Oh, it was the same old rot. Seeing patients, missing you... a typical week. Now back to you! Go on- tell me what happened."

"Erm, well, it was… eventful."

"Was it? How so?" Mrs. Granger pondered. Her daughter's heart instantly started hammering.

"I, er, I didn't go to work yesterday. Or Wednesday." Hermione revealed.

"Why ever not?"

"Well… I-I went to the hospital Wednesday morning and, and I had Healer's orders to take that time off."

"Why?! _Hospital_?," exclaimed Darla, making the witch wince, "Bunny, what's wrong?! Are you okay?" Hermione took in large fortifying breaths to neutralize her heart rate and closed her eyes before she pressed on.

"Yes. And no," she stated.

"Hermione, what-"

"I-I've been having symptoms for weeks now, Mum, so I went to the hospital to have them diagnosed."

"What kind of symptoms?" Darla demanded. There was a pause dripping with tension before she received an answer.

"Ones that have made me question if I'm… if I'm… pregnant." Hermione quietly remarked.

The silence that followed this was the most oppressing the young woman had ever experienced. Mrs. Granger did not make a stitch of noise and Hermione tried to keep from hyperventilating and blurting out a long winded explanation.

"A-And? Are you? O-Or is it something else?" came Darla's trembling inquiry at last. Another agonizing moment of silence before the ball dropped.

"I am."

The witch felt a heady rush of emotion at the admission and it beckoned forth tears, her reliable companions of nearly one week. The flood gates had opened.

"Oh. _Oh_. Oh, God…. Hermione. Oh, _Hermione_! Love, I, I-I can't even!… _Pregnant_? Hermione, what happened?!" exclaimed Darla.

"I'm… Mum, I'm ten weeks along!" shared Hermione, sounding like she were pleading. Her mother inhaled sharply at the information.

"Ten weeks? That means that you-"

"Came to Alberta already pregnant, yes. But I had no idea!"

"Hermione," Darla began in a warning tone, "If this happened before you left England, then _who_ is the father?"

She had a sinking feeling about this in her gut but she hoped with everything she had that she was wrong. She hoped with everything she had that Hermione's ex-boyfriend Troy Heathcliff was the father. The two had only been broken up for what felt like five seconds before she left the country; surely they could have conceived right before their relationship ended!

Hermione let out a weak sob before she replied.

"W-We didn't cast any protection the last time, or use anything Muggle! It wasn't on my mind, I wasn't thinking properly! I was just so surprised to see him and I was horribly upset about Troy! A-And I had no intention of letting him stay beyond a few minutes but then he was holding me and letting me c-cry and it felt nice! Mum, I didn't mean to!"

Darla's heart dropped at her daughter's rambling. She had not given a direct answer but she _had_ given an answer, one that Darla was easily able to decipher because she had been there the night in question, had seen and spoken to the man whom Hermione was referencing. The man who caused the sinking feeling in her gut. And to learn that _he_ was the father made Darla literally feel sick.

"Oh, _Hermione_ ," she uttered, a hand going to her brow to steady herself, "Have you, have you told anyone?"

"No. Apart from my friend Debbie, no. You're the second, and you would've been the first, Mum, but I was scared. I _am_ scared!" the brunette answered. Mrs. Granger felt a sharp stab in her heart at the revelation that had nothing to do with physical pain. She had not been the first person Hermione went to about such a pivotal event in her life; to her, it only served to magnify the distance between them, which had come from necessity and not desire. And to hear that her daughter had been afraid of her reaction- _was_ afraid? It was too much.

"I can understand that, but you need not ever be afraid of your mother, dear" the older woman offered.

"Mum, I don't know what to do. I-I've just been in my flat since Wednesday. I feel like I'm losing my mind."

"And feeling very alone, I would wager."

"Y-Yes," said Hermione with a sniff. Darla's nostrils flared and she stood with a straight back. That settled it. She needed to comfort her child.

"Hermione, come home," she ordered.

"What?"

"Come home for the weekend. Come tomorrow."

"I… I can't. I can't Apparate that far a distance and a red eye flight would-" the witch commenced.

"Take one of those Portkeys." Darla interjected.

"There has to be an emergency in order to get an international Portkey with notice this sudden."

"Well that's what this is. Go get one today; you've got plenty of time. It's only two o'clock there."

"Mum, they won't let me. It's not an emergency." Hermione countered.

"This _is_ an emergency, Hermione!," her mother half shouted, "You need your family! You've just gotten life changing news and you're by yourself! The people who love you are far away and you need them! You need to see them, talk to them! You need their _help_! You can't learn something of this magnitude and be alone! It's already been two days that you've had to sit with this!" _Longer than that_ , the witch thought as she wiped away errant tears. She had taken the pregnancy tests nearly a week ago and been a wreck ever since.

"I don't care what lie you have to create but you need a Portkey, Hermione. And you need one for tomorrow, do you understand me?" Mrs. Granger continued. She swallowed and fought back her own desire to cry.

"Yes." Hermione whispered. Her mother's partial hysteria instantly disappeared at the sound of how fragile she sounded.

"Bunny, you're pregnant... You _have_ to come home. Please."

"O-Okay."

"Okay?" Darla repeated.

"Yes, okay. I-I'll get a Portkey and come home," the witch promised.

" _Good_. We'll talk then- about everything. Everything. Just, just get some rest tonight, sweet, so you can make the trip tomorrow."

"Mum? Will you… what will you tell Dad?"

"I'll take care of it. Don't worry over him. I don't want you to have any more stress than you already do." Darla assured.

"He'll hate me…" Hermione miserably predicted.

"No. He could never. Not _you_."

There was silence during which Darla hesitated. While neither she nor her husband could ever entertain the idea of scorning Hermione, she wanted to say that she never saw this for her daughter, not under these circumstances. She never wanted this for her daughter- not like this. But she said they would talk about everything tomorrow and those particular thoughts were included in everything.

"I'm sorry, Mum. I'm so sorry." Hermione remarked, continuing to sound miserable.

"You've done nothing wrong," Mrs. Granger answered, "Just call when you know what time you'll arrive tomorrow. Leave a message if we don't answer since we'll likely be asleep."

"All right."

"I love you, Hermione. I know you're scared but I love you. Remember that."

"I love you too," the young woman attested.

The pair hung up shortly thereafter and Hermione let out a shuddering breath as she wiped her face. She had to return to the government building she had left an hour earlier and she needed to freshen up a bit before that happened. She now had the task of securing an international Portkey and had to do so by lying but the mild unpleasantness of this was inconsequential. Despite the situation being far from ideal and despite the fear that still dominated her, Hermione was going _home_ tomorrow and that produced a nugget of disbelieving happiness that no other emotion could touch.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I reread the last chaper of Stone before finishing this one and I found a continuity issue with the timeline of Hermione's pregnancy, as far as how long it was between the last time she had sex with Harry and how long it took her to leave England. As such, I've changed her from being nine weeks pregnant to ten and I changed a few time estimates in Stone as well.

The smile on Hermione's face was involuntary as she ran her hands through Crookshanks' orange fur and listened to his shockingly loud purrs. Her attention did not wane when her mother re-entered the formal sitting room carrying a tray ladened with everything needed for tea.

"Oh, how he has missed you." Darla stated, setting down the tea and getting to prepare it right away.

"I've missed him as well. To pieces." Hermione said.

"He's claimed your room as his. Won't sleep anywhere else."

This tidbit of information made the witch feel guilty and her hand stilled for a moment. Her meager weekend bag was already in her room and her bed looked to be free of cat hair, meaning either her parents washed the bedding or her cat slept elsewhere in her room. Hermione had arrived to her childhood home half an hour ago after leaving Calgary via Portkey at 6:15AM; it was now 1:45PM and she was back in the UK. She had been immediately enveloped into an embrace by her mother and both women promptly dissolved into tears. She was staying until Monday afternoon, which meant she would be back to Canada on Monday morning, and the knowledge that she would be able to stay for two days was overwhelming. Overwhelming because it was two full days of familiarity and support and overwhelming because it was _only_ two days in this well known, loving environment.

Hermione had yet to decide what precisely she was going to do during her 48 hours in England, or more accurately to _whom_ she would reach out, but she knew seeing her parents and cat would not be all that happened. For that matter, Simon Granger was conspicuously absent from the emotional reunion and his daughter had yet to address it because of her anxiety. As Darla handed Hermione a cup of tea and a modest plate of small foods, the latter decided she could no longer avoid it.

"Where's Dad?" she asked.

"At the practice." Darla replied.

"When's… when's he getting home?"

"At four."

"Oh," uttered Hermione, "Did he know what time I was coming?" Mrs. Granger peered at her with empathy.

"Yes. He didn't want to cancel his patient but he also just wanted to make sure he had himself sorted before he saw you. Sees you," she explained. There was a pause as the witch fiddled with her cup and ignored her mother's gaze.

"Is he angry?"

"Not at you, Bunny."

"What happened when you told him?" inquired Hermione.

"He couldn't believe it, then he was angry. Quite angry," Darla admitted with a sigh, "But _not_ at you. There was a lot of yelling, directed at… at _him_. It took quite some time for your father to calm. He wasn't fully composed again until we woke up this morning."

"So he's avoiding me because he doesn't want to start shouting again."

" _Hermione_." The older woman reached out and squeezed the younger's unoccupied hand. She squeezed back.

"I can't blame him. I feel like I've messed up so badly, Mum." Hermione remarked with closed eyes.

"You didn't know. You didn't ask for this or plan it!" Darla asserted.

"But I did let _him_ in. Stupidly, so _stupidly!_ , I did let him… let him t-touch me, and look at the outcome!"

"You gave another chance, more love, to someone who abused it. That's all. You didn't know he was going to do something so appalling."

"I should have!" insisted Hermione.

"Hermione, thinking about how you're to blame does _nothing_ to make you feel better. So stop," Mrs. Granger directed, "Now, drink your tea."

The witch started at the change in conversation but chuckled soon after and did as she was told. Her mother let a few minutes pass so she could drink and eat, and Crookshanks could keep cozying up to his master, before she pressed on.

"How it happened is not what's important here. Your feelings are, as is what you want to _do_ about the situation," commented Darla.

"I've _no_ idea what I want to do. I-I haven't really thought about what to _do_ with the baby; I've been stuck on the fact that there _is_ one!"

"That's understandable. And, since there's still a bit of time left in your first trimester, you have some time before you have to make a decision. But, sweet, I think, at this stage, it's time to _start_ considering what you're going to do."

"Do I have to?," Hermione questioned in a small voice. She shrunk down lower on the couch and felt the threat of tears, "I haven't even known but for days."

"You won't stay ten weeks forever," Darla noted, smiling sadly and smoothing her child's hair, "I know it's not fair. But I'm here to help you choose, if you need it."

There was a long bout of silence as the imposing thought of what she was going to do about her pregnancy lightly settled on the witch's mind. She had meant what she said- she was not ready to contemplate that since her brain was still wrestling with the developing-person-in-womb knowledge as a whole, but she allowed a brief mental jaunt in that direction.

"I've always thought I'd be a mother. I _wanted_ it, at some point in my life. Perhaps in my early thirties… but this? Mum, I'm only 20! I've just moved to a new country by myself. I haven't gotten into my career like I wanted. I'm _alone_!" Hermione remarked.

"You're _not_ alone. Never, Hermione. Not as long as your father and I are here," her mother declared. The young woman nodded dejectedly and then added:

"But I'm not… I'm not with the baby's fa… the baby's fa-fa-father. I had to get _away_ from him, at that." Her tears had fallen over.

"I know that's probably the hardest part, sweet."

Another lull of quiet came as Crookshanks sought and received the attention of both women. The pair also finished their tea and Darla poured herself another cup.

"Everything seems to go against being a mother right now." Hermione said in a morose tone.

"Not _everything_. It doesn't have to be," commenced Darla, "You can't change your age but you _can_ change your location. You can always move back home, which would make _all_ of us happy. We could also help you with caretaking. As for work, millions of women balance a fulfilling career and motherhood, including yours truly. It's very possible, dear, and your young age actually helps you in that regard. You still have decades ahead of you to reach your professional goals."

"All of that is true…"

"Of course, this is _if_ you choose motherhood. If that's the path you want to take."

"And what about the biggest obstacle? The one that _is_ the hardest? What about, what about… Harry." Hermione posed. His name came out on a quavering exhale and she put her hands over her eyes. Mrs. Granger had no reply and felt a rapid swell of sadness as she looked at her daughter.

"I'd have to _talk_ to him, Mum. I'd have to _tell_ him about the p-pregnancy," the Muggleborn shared, continuing to cover her eyes, "I'd have to face him again after this long. And that's… that's _terrifying_. What if he's still the same? Chances are that he is! W-What if he tries to trap me again? A baby will keep me tied to him forever so it would work! He'd come back into my life and I wouldn't be able to _escape_ him… I'd be a prisoner. If I have the baby, I'll be a prisoner. His."

Darla's heart completely broke at the spoken fears. It was made worse because they were realistic _and_ because she had them herself. Would Hermione be endangering herself, mentally and emotionally, by having the child and having Harry forced into her life once more? Would she be ensnaring herself if she followed through with the pregnancy?

"Baby or not, you'll _never_ be caught in his web like that again! You won't allow it and neither will we. You'll be protected." Darla asserted, pulling Hermione into a tight hug. Some of the tension drained away at the display of affection.

"But would the baby have a father?," the witch wondered, "I want any child I have in life to have a father who's stable and loving. I don't think this one would get that." They separated and peered at one another.

"Things, and people, can change." Mrs. Granger said with a half smile and more confidence than she felt.

"What do _you_ think I should do? What do you want?"

Thoughts exploded in Darla's mind at the query and she took some time to form an appropriate answer that was also, undoubtedly, the truth.

"I want what's best for you and I want to see you happy. If you decide that means having a child at this point in your life, then _that_ is what I want," she proclaimed. Hermione gave a timid smile and started a hug of her own, nestling into her mother.

"I have so much to consider. Too much," she mumbled.

"Well then, how about one of your favorite films as a distraction? Give that ever working brain of yours a chance for a kip." Darla proposed. She received a grateful grin.

"Sounds brilliant."

The movie was nearly over when Simon arrived home from work. He saw the two women lounging in the living room on the loveseat and appearing content while they watched the screen. He stared somberly at them for a handful of long moments before his presence was acknowledged by a meow from Crookshanks. Two heads swiveled to the room's entrance and Mr. Granger's breath lodged in his throat as he made eye contact with Hermione. The atmosphere became tense in the subsequent second.

Simon had sat in the driveway in his car for a number of minutes before steeling himself and entering the house, all so he could prepare for the prospective feelings he would have upon seeing Hermione. Now, those feelings seemed to be dumped on his head like a pile of bricks and he did his best to not buckle under their weight. Darla watched as her husband and daughter gazed at each other, all three aware of the rigid air between them. A memory of the previous night, after telling Simon about Hermione's pregnancy, flashed through her mind and her mouth turned down.

" _Simon, please-" Darla beseeched._

" _He had the nerve, the absolute_ nerve _!, to come to our home while she was distraught and demand to see her, knowing damn_ well _he was the reason for her hurt!," Mr. Granger raved, red in the face as he paced, "Then he took advantage of our daughter and_ defiled _her as we sat under the very same_ roof _! And now?! Now we learn that the bastard got her pregnant, of all things!_ PREGNANT _!"_

" _Simon, I_ know _how upsetting this is, but-"_

" _I've half a mind to think he did it intentionally, Darla. I really do. He showed up_ meaning _to do this. And I could strangle_ _him dead right now. I absolutely could. I could kill him- I mean it. I've said it before, but I-"_

_Darla marched right up to her husband before he could finish his sentence with a hard expression and grabbed his face in her hands._

" _This isn't what_ any _of us wanted!," she exclaimed, "And I feel that I could throttle him to death myself but I won't. And_ you _won't! Because it won't help Hermione and_ she _is our concern here, not him! She needs us and she needs us to be put together. So I will let you rage and curse for a bit longer but you will eventually stop, gather yourself, and be the father that our daughter very much needs right now."_

Darla knew Simon's indignation from last night was easier to latch onto than the profound sadness he had about the situation, but she did not want the fury to push away an already frightened Hermione. However, her concern for the state of his feelings washed away when Simon broke the trance by saying Hermione's name in a croaky voice and rushing into the living room. She was only halfway up from her seat when he grabbed her into his arms and dropped his head on her shoulder.

Mr. Granger began crying as he held his only child tightly in his arms. This caused a domino effect as Hermione started to cry and then her mother thereafter, still perched on the sofa. He apologized to her and for her, stating that he was not angry or disappointed with her and promising that they would support her in whatever way she needed. The Muggleborn felt like she wanted to burst from relief at her father's words as she clutched him back and tears ran down her cheeks. All three family members ended up on the long sofa where they had an hour plus long conversation and Hermione found herself rehashing many of the things she had already expressed to her mother. It left her quite exhausted and there was no resolution, per se, but she felt light and loved at its finish, knowing her parents would be with her on whatever path she chose.

Hermione sent a Patronus to Ron that evening while her parents started dinner and she relaxed with Crookshanks. It took notable effort to call forth her otter since happiness had been restrained for her for much too long, but she managed it by thinking of being on the sofa with her mother and father only one hour earlier. Hermione informed Ron that she was back in England for the weekend and asked if they could meet at her house tomorrow or Monday because she would love to see him. Accordingly, the red head was astounded to see the unmistakable otter swim gracefully but solemnly toward him while he stood in his (and George's) kitchen, and his mouth actually dropped open after hearing the message in his best friend's voice. He had not seen Hermione at all since her departure to Canada and the last letter they exchanged had been 10 days ago, although they had an agreement to write each other once a week. Ron did not reply right away due to the shock but he conjured his dog Patronus 15 minutes after the otter faded and dispatched it with the message that of _course_ he would see her and could be at the Granger residence at 3PM the following day (if it was agreeable with her).

The brunette was very consoled by seeing the Jack Russell messenger and the good feeling carried throughout the meal with her parents. Knowing Ron's apartment had a fireplace like all standard wizarding apartments, she fire called him after dinner but he was not there. George, on the other hand, was, and his face split into a wide smile when he saw her. They had their own heartfelt mini reunion but Hermione kept it short, the emotion of the day finally wearing on her. She asked George to tell his brother that 3PM was perfect for a visit and she would expect him then, adding that she would have to see everyone else during her next visit.

"I miss all of you, immensely, but I'm really only able to see Ron while I'm here dealing with my family... emergency." Hermione explained.

"We know you do, Hermione. We feel the same," the twin remarked, "And I understand. We'll catch up the next time you're back, like you said. It's good enough just seeing your face!"

Hermione dropped into her bed that night at 9PM and was asleep hardly three minutes later (a fact that Darla confirmed because she went to check on the witch). Her last conscious thought was that if she was going to be highly emotional about this situation for God knew how long, at least the day had shown her that some of the emotion could be positive.

* * *

One of the first things Hermione did after she cut Harry from her life was set an anti-Apparating ward on the Granger residence for anyone who was not her or Ron. Its single purpose was to keep Harry away and it had not been lifted in the brunette's absence. Hermione assumed this is how Ron would arrive to the house on Sunday afternoon and she was proven correct when a loud snapping noise originating from the sitting room was heard. The brunette, who was in the kitchen getting a snack, dropped what was in her hand and peered at the room's clock. 3:04PM.

"Hermione?!" she heard a voice call. Her heart leapt and she ran out of the kitchen.

Ron had not moved from his spot upon Apparating but he was looking around and appeared agitated. When the two spotted each other, they stared at one another and did not move for a couple, concentrated seconds before he took two giant steps forward and Hermione hurled herself into his long arms. He held her so close that she was lifted from the floor and it was somewhat uncomfortable but all she cared about was being in her best friend's presence once more.

"Merlin, Hermione!" said Ron.

"Hi Ron," she laughed, feeling like she wanted to cry.

"I know it hasn't been _that_ long but I'm so glad to see you! I bloody _miss_ you!" Ron relayed.

"I miss you too! More than I can say! And two months _is_ a long time!"

The wizard put her down and gazed at her with a grin that displayed both happiness and grief. Hermione stretched herself and kissed his right cheek.

"Do you want something to eat or drink?" she offered.

"Nah, I'm fine. Ate lunch not long ago," he replied. She nodded in acknowledgment, "Are your parents here?"

"No. They wanted to give us our time uninterrupted so they left to the cinema."

"So you've only been here for a day?"

"Yes. Let's sit. I know there's a lot we need to talk about," instructed Hermione, taking his hand and walking them out of the sitting room in favor of the living room, "I read your last letter, of course, but I got preoccupied before I was able to respond."

The pair spoke about Ron's last correspondence and more. They spoke about the Weasley joke shop growing so much that Ron and George were looking into securing a second location and they spoke about Ginny's nascent Quidditch career. They also spoke about Ron's romantic life, as he claimed that he was seeing Lavender Brown again and shared that he had been with her the previous night when Hermione fire called.

"It's not serious right now or anything but we… we're giving it another go. We connected six months ago and it's- nice- to talk to her again. To see how she's been recovering since the Battle of Hogwarts. It's only been three weeks that we decided to date again but I'm, I'm glad for it. Hopeful," he reported.

The wizard shrugged and peered at her timidly but Hermione only had a smile for him. She remembered him mentioning his reconnection to Lavender all those months ago and assumed it to be fairly casual; however, she had also been caught full swing in Harry's madness during this time and it contributed to her lack of awareness over her other best friend and her old roommate.

"I'm happy for you, Ron. Ignoring the mess that was sixth year and my ridiculous part in it, Lavender is a good person. I'm sure she's been grateful to have you in her life again. You're funny and kind and comforting, which has probably been wonderful for her recovery." Hermione said, taking his hand.

"Way to make me sound like a woman," the red head commented with a smirk.

"And you have an antiquated view of gender, how could I forget!" She dropped his hand and he laughed.

It was when Ron revealed that Fleur and Bill were expecting that Hermione's contentment faltered. Well, wasn't that ironic? The mention of the other woman's pregnancy brought the flagrancy of her own situation front and center and indicated it was an opportune time to share it with Ron at last.

"That's, that's wonderful! Another baby for them…. A baby," the Muggleborn stated, looking at the floor.

"They're thrilled. Mum's thrilled. Victoire will get a sibling," he mentioned with a small smile. He then exhaled and slapped his knee, "We've talked all this time about _me_ , though. _You're_ here, unexpectedly! I want to know what's going on for you. You didn't say you were planning to make a visit in your last letter." Hermione shook her head

"It wasn't planned. I didn't know I was coming until the evening before I arrived."

"Just wanted to come home? Missed it?"

Hermione shook her head again and laughed although she was beginning to feel that despair creep back at an alarming rate.

"Mum suggested I come for the weekend," she noted, "And things have been like I said in my letters. Everyone is very welcoming, I've found a few people in my department I think I'm starting to make friends with. I enjoy my job and my flat… I really like the city. It's nonstop as far as adjusting to a new environment."

"Have all the good things made it a bit easier to handle, you know, why you had to leave?" Ron wondered. He sounded uncomfortable and careful. Hermione's throat closed at the question.

"They seemed to be, up until Wednesday," she claimed. His brow furrowed.

"What happened Wednesday? Was it… was it just a bad day? Did you have a reminder of something?," There was an audible heave of his chest and his face became stony, "Did you hear from him? Did he find out where you are?" The witch looked at him in apprehension and assured:

"No. No, Ron. H-He hasn't contacted me."

"Tell me what was hard about Wednesday, then." Ron prompted. He seemed to relax at her statement but it rapidly vanished after water collected in Hermione's eyes.

"I discovered something, something I..." she commenced in a shaky tone before trailing off. She began wringing her hands and the pureblood furrowed his brow in concern once more.

"Discovered something?"

"That's why I'm here- because of what I learned. I'm here for the weekend because I told my mum about it and she insisted I come home. To talk, to be with her and Dad."

"What'd you learn? Are you okay? You don't seem okay." Ron noted. He covered her hands with one of his.

"I can't really say that I am." Hermione replied as she tried to still her hand movements.

"Hermione, what's going on? You're not giving me a straight answer. I'm starting to get worried-"

"Ron, I'm pregnant."

There was stark silence like there had been after revealing this same information to her mother. The witch did not feel strong enough to gauge Ron's reaction to the news so she stared at the floor and bit the skin on her bottom lip until it started to feel raw. His hand continued to cover hers but it had become lifeless and rather like dead weight, which was far from a good sign.

"So… so you found someone in Alberta, already, and now you're…." he eventually mumbled. At the sound of his voice, Hermione rapidly looked at him and saw that he was gazing at her with a flat affect. For Ron, someone who wore his heart on his sleeve and was quite expressive, it was scary to witness vacancy like this.

"You never mentioned a bloke in your letters. Was this an accident?" he pondered in the same monotone.

"Yes, a _complete_ accident. I didn't know for so long, not until Wednesday!," the Muggleborn shared, realizing that at some point tears had breached her eyes, "But, Ron, I didn't… it didn't happen in Canada. I haven't met a man there. I'm not involved with anyone."

"Then-"

"I-I was already pregnant when I got to Calgary."

Ron became quiet once more. His eyes darted all over her face as his brain processed the new revelation and the blank look that dominated his features dwindled and gave way to another emotion, an emotion that caused his face to suffuse with color and his mouth to thin from pressure.

"You were pregnant before you left England," the red head stated in a clipped tone.

"Yes." Hermione confirmed, gulping.

"You were with Harry not long before you left England."

"Ron-"

"Tell me it's not… _shit_ ," Ron remarked, closing his eyes. He clenched his teeth and shook his head, "Hermione, please tell me it's _not_ his."

A strained moment passed during which her mouth began to tremble.

"I can't," she whispered in a broken voice.

One second later, the wizard exploded.

"Fucking _HELL,_ Hermione!"

He sprang up from the sofa with balled fists. His face was now the same color as his hair and his eyes were open again and appeared wild as they bored into her.

"You're the smartest person _anyone_ knows- how could this happen?! How can you be pregnant by him?! This… oh Circe, this is like a terrible joke!" Ron shouted.

"I didn't mean for it to happen." Hermione answered, scrunching her face in an attempt to not cry further.

"What are you going to do?! You can't bloody keep it- that'd be mad! That'd make your move to Canada absolutely pointless! That'd bring _him_ right back into your life, permanently! It's the worst possible thing for you!"

"I h-haven't decided… I _know_ it's a bad situation!"

"Hermione, I-I can't…," the pureblood uttered as though he had not heard her. He put his hands over his eyes, "I can't fucking _believe_ this! For Godrick's sake!"

Ron's hands fell away from his face when he heard a loud inhale and a choked noise. He saw that the witch's own face was buried in her hands and her shaking shoulders were accompanied by definite sobs. _Oh, you sodding, insensitive berk!_ he thought as his face and shoulders fell at the sight of her weeping. Ron was back on the couch in a flash, gathering her in his arms and apologizing for his poor reaction.

"I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry, Hermione! I'm not angry at you- not at all. I'm not upset with you. I'm terribly sorry, okay?" he offered.

"I didn't mean for this to happen. I didn't want it to! I didn't know," she noted, cradled against his chest but still covering her face.

"I know. I know you didn't plan this or want it. I understand. I can't imagine how hard it was for you to find out. I'm not upset with you, I'm just… I'm scared for you. I'm upset that this happened _to_ you! You left for your well being only for _this_ to happen? I just… hell, I just want you to be able to live your life without him invading it."

Hermione did not reply but she did sniff and let her hands fall. She squeezed him around his middle to acknowledge that she heard and appreciated what he said and then they sat without words for a solid five minutes while he held her.

"What are you going to do?" Ron softly inquired.

"I don't know yet. I haven't even had a full week to process that I _am_ pregnant," she murmured, "I told my parents I'm going to think about it for the next couple weeks. I don't want to take ages to make a decision- I don't want to agonize over it- but I also can't take too long or else I… I may lose the option to say no."

"And that option, saying no, you don't know that it's the one you want for certain?"

"No, i-it's not. And that makes me _so_ afraid- that I don't know! Am I… am I _actually_ considering having this baby? Knowing what its father put me through, what I may have to endure again if I have it? Is that what that means?"

Hermione peered at him anxiously, as though she hoped he had salvation in the form of a response. Ron was just as lost as she was, however, and he did not exactly trust himself to share any more thoughts considering how his unfiltered distress over the predicament had caused her to weep not long ago. He still felt very much shaken by thoughts of Hermione carrying _Harry's_ baby inside of her and what it meant. He needed time to think about the significance of this all- _she_ needed time to think- but he was not going to make it worse for her than it already was.

"I'm not sure," the wizard admitted, looking at her with determination, "But I _do_ know it means that I am going to be here for you no matter if you're in England, Canada, or on Saturn. You have your parents and you have me too."

The brunette threw her arms around his neck in the following instant and mumbled something into his shoulder. Ron shut his eyes and returned the hug, doing his best to ensure that his sigh was as undetectable as possible.

* * *

He was slumped over the table with his face flat on its surface, one arm laid out at an odd angle and the other folded behind his back. A hand was lodged into hair that reached his shoulders but he was unconcerned by its length, just as he was unconcerned about the chilly temperature of the table on which his face rested.

The uncaring posture of his body reflected the uncaring attitude he'd had for the past two months and his elf frequently found him flopped or slouched somewhere in the house, staring into nothingness. When he wasn't doing this, he could be found sleeping or drinking (although he often had a glass of liquor grasped in one hand when he was slumping). There were sporadic moments when he displayed passion and signs of life but they happened when he was overtaken by fury or despair, and if it got too bad his elf would have to intervene with magic and sequester him away to a room at the very top of the house. His elf had to do everything for him, actually: cook, clean, pester him to do basic grooming, and run necessary errands. He rarely left the house and only did so if he was hidden by his Invisibility Cloak, and there was no one with whom he had to maintain contact. (Or at least, not anymore). The group of ragtag acquaintances he'd once had and humored no longer mattered to him, not that it ever really had. After all, those superficial associates had been the first thing to go after _she'd_ left.

Nothing mattered to him in the two months that she had been gone. It had been consecutive weeks of hollowness interspersed with rage and misery. The letter that had started it all, the one given to him by her parents, sat on his bedside bureau at all times in plain sight. Many times it escaped his notice because of his habituation to its presence but other times it was the trigger for his fits of despair or fury. He was unable to say how many times he'd read the damn thing but knew the number was astonishingly high as he could recite it word for word. (And he should be able to recite it if, soon after receiving it, there had been random days where he'd read it repeatedly for hours at a time). He also knew that if he were to be hit by some bizarre curse that stole his ability to speak but a few sentences for the rest of his life, all that would fall from his mouth would be the last two lines of the letter.

_I never thought my love for you would turn into a nightmare._

_Goodbye, Harry._

And she had _meant_ her goodbye, for he had not seen or spoken to her in ten weeks. He did not even know where she _was_ , which was the most agonizing part of it all. He knew that she was far and that she had abandoned her job and apartment but that was all he knew. She was far. From him. Apparently because of him.

Plenty of other people knew where she was, of course. Her parents, for one, but also people he had once considered friends: the Weasleys (with Ron first and foremost among them), Neville, Luna, a couple other close Hogwarts chums, most likely. Yet despite the others' knowledge of her whereabouts, he had not once attempted to get this information from them in the past two months. A variety of factors influenced this decision but, in his more livid moments, he thought "to hell with it" and resolved to stalk back to the Grangers' or storm into the Weasley joke shop and force an answer from someone. He did not follow through, conversely, as the emptiness would soon fill him again before he acted on this vow.

But damn it- he _had_ to know where she was! He could not live out the rest of his life like this, plagued by these forsaken emotions. He could not even live out the rest of his 19th year like this. And he knew she was the key. She would be able to stop this, would be able to keep him from going insane. She was the reason he was an utter mess to begin with and so only she could resolve it.

She had to.

But he had to have her back in order for that to happen and he wasn't accomplishing that by wallowing around his house in a continually drunken state, leaving Kreacher to make sure he didn't fall apart for good.

He had to do something about it. He had to be active again, like he had been before she walked out on him. When he had had purpose, purpose to keep her by his side and _away_ from her worthless ex-boyfriend.

Purpose...

She had always been able to give him a sense of purpose and, now, that purpose could involve getting her back. _Should_ involve getting her back….

As Harry slowly lifted his face from the kitchen table and grimaced at the sensation, his fingers automatically flexed. His wand, that sat to the left of his head at the end of the table, rolled toward him a few inches and captured his attention. He stared at it, unflinching, as he let the notion of purpose and the need to find Hermione fill his head further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Harry has finally made his appearance in this story! Let the games begin.


	3. Chapter 3

Simon did his best to not look at his daughter's skillfully covered abdomen as he pulled out a chair for her and then his wife. Hermione rewarded him with a grateful smile before taking a seat while Darla rewarded him with a kiss on the cheek. He said nothing and claimed the chair on his wife's right side after the women took their seats and started conversing about something innocuous. The small family was seated on the sidewalk at its youngest member's request and Simon peered around the street in interest, registering the number of chattering people out and peering at landmarks that surrounded them. He had never been to Calgary before- never been to Canada at all- so there was plenty to take in and observe.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger had been in Calgary for one night thus far. During Hermione's trip home three weeks prior, it was decided that Darla and Simon would travel to Canada within one month in order to visit her and to also discuss her decision regarding the pregnancy; she had been happy about the prospect so they bought airplane tickets the night before she returned to North America. Darla had been the one to call Hermione on Thursday to confirm their arrival time and ask if she had an answer about whether or not she was going to keep the baby, and she received affirmatives for both topics (although her daughter did not indicate what choice she had settled on).

And while she told her mother she knew what she was going to do, she had not yet shared it with her parents despite being in their presence for nearly 24 hours. Simon had not expected the witch to bring it up in the first five minutes of merrily greeting them at the airport on Friday, or during the taxi ride with them back to her apartment building, but he thought (hoped) it would at least be referenced by dinner. It had not, conversely, and it was driving Simon a bit crazy. It was made worse by the fact that Hermione's belly was protruding slightly, giving visual testament to her pregnancy. Simon had been somewhat gobsmacked when he got his first good look at Hermione the previous day, his eyes immediately drawn to the change in her abdomen since the last time he saw her.

Looking at her stomach was difficult for him for a number of reasons but primarily because the fate of what caused this change (i.e., the steadily growing fetus) was unknown **.** However, Mr. Granger knew that they were going to discuss her decision at last as they sat at this sidewalk table and looked through their menus. Hermione had suggested spending most of the day in the city that morning while the trio ate breakfast and she promised that she would share her decision with them during lunch.

"I just wanted one night where I didn't have to think about it. One night where I could be happy about your first visit," she had stated.

"And that's perfectly okay. We're happy to be here with you and it's up to you when you want to talk about it." Mrs. Granger had replied, glancing at her spouse.

Simon had nodded his agreement and given Hermione's hand an affectionate squeeze, but it was now lunch and he was more than ready to delve into the subject.

After the waitress took their orders and menus with a smile, the witch concentrated for a few moments while nonverbally casting the Muffliato Charm with her wand that was hidden under the table.

"So." Hermione said once she was done. She peered between her parents.

"So..." Simon repeated, clearing his throat and sitting up straighter.

"I know you're ready to talk about it- to hear my decision."

"If _you_ are, Hermione. Only if you are." Darla clarified.

"I am. I've had three weeks to be ready, and it really is the reason why you two flew out here," the young woman attested, "Besides, Dad has been rather quiet since we left the flat." Both Granger women looked at him yet his wife's gaze was somewhat reproachful. He felt his cheeks flush a bit and he gave a repentant half smile.

"I'm sorry, Bunny. I'm just a bit anxious to know. To know how we're going to proceed, which way we're going to help you," stated Simon. It was reassuring to hear her father say "we" and she nodded her understanding.

"That feeling of anxiety has been overwhelming for me," Hermione admitted, "Sometimes this feels like the hardest thing I've ever experienced, which sounds mad to say considering all of the impossible trials I faced at 18 when trying to stop Voldemort once and for all. I feel like every waking minute of these past three weeks was devoted to considering what to do about the pregnancy. It interfered with my concentration at work, it kept me from sleeping as I should have on certain nights… it was exhausting. I teetered between both choices so regularly in the first week that it felt like I was going round the bend, so I committed myself to thinking about only _one_ choice for a few days and the other option for a few days following that."

"Was that more helpful?" Darla wondered.

"It was. I even made a handful of lists of the advantages of disadvantages of both options, which helped to focus my stress. One thing I knew from the start, however, was that it would be beneficial to have you come to Calgary no matter what choice I made. If I continued with the pregnancy, you could be here for emotional support; if I didn't, you could come with me to the appointment to… to terminate."

The witch let out a sigh and her mother lovingly covered her hand right as the waitress circled back to their table with drinks. No one was speaking at that moment so there was no buzzing in her ears or any indication that something was amiss, and the family did not speak again until she left once more.

"When did you make your final decision?" Simon asked.

"Three days ago. Three weeks exactly after going to the hospital and confirming that I was pregnant. How poetic, right?" his daughter responded, flashing a conflicted smile. Her parents exchanged glances.

"Was there a determining factor?" Mrs. Granger inquired. Hermione nodded and took a beat before replying.

"I went to a bookstore on Monday evening. I wasn't there for anything specific… I was already leaning toward a decision by that point, although it made me uneasy. I suppose maybe that's why I went- to avoid that feeling. And then, while I was at the bookstore, I saw this display. It was in the parenthood section, a section I had admittedly visited before, and it was a table covered in blank books. A worker was nearby and watched me approach the table, and before I could read any of the display's signs he explained what it was. They were books that parents could write to their children, _for_ their children. He said you could write anything you wanted: a fairy tale, your family history, a biography about your child, your wishes for them. Anything. You could also have it illustrated by a professional or do it yourself."

"That sounds beautiful."

"I thought so too," Hermione remarked, looking down at the table's surface, "I stood by that display probably for a quarter of an hour. I was enamored with the idea. I found it to be so meaningful for a child to have a story that was made exclusively for them, created by their parents' love. Before I fully realized, I… I was thinking about what story _I_ might pen for a child. _This_ child. What I'd want to say in the book, what I'd want to express. If it would be a tale or a book about my hopes for the baby. It made me think of who this person might grow to be and what they might accomplish. I pictured myself reading the book to a little boy or girl and, one day, of them eagerly reading it to _me_. It was… i-it stuck with me. I couldn't get the idea of the book and what it could represent out of my head the rest of that night or on Tuesday. And not _once_ when I thought of that book did I feel afraid or distraught over the prospect of having a child. Only hopeful."

Her mother and father watched and listened to her in a bated fashion but did not speak, knowing she was not yet done.

"I think seeing that display cemented the choice I had reluctantly made, but it helped me to let go of much of my apprehension about it," She inhaled deeply and then peered directly at her parents, "I'm going to keep the baby."

Simon shut his eyes at the revelation as he listened to Darla make some kind of noise. He felt like he was literally rocked by emotion for a long moment of time and he did not open his eyes until that feeling subsided.

"I know it will be far from easy. I _know_ that! But I!... I want it. I-I want to keep this baby. I think it will be something good." Hermione continued.

She finished this sentence in a small voice and one hand had subconsciously gone to cover her belly. She also had tears in her eyes and appeared worried now that she had voiced her decision aloud. Additionally, what she refrained from saying was that part of the reason she wanted to keep the baby was that it would be something good because it would be the last good part of Harry she had. If she had lost him in a sense then she wanted to remember through their child who he had been: some _one_ good.

"Good it will be because it's coming from you, sweet! _You_ are good and we have so much love for you that we can't properly put it into words, and that love and goodness will extend to this baby. If you want to see this pregnancy through then we'll be with you." Mrs. Granger attested. She was on the verge of crying as well but had a smile on her face as she reached across the table to take both of Hermione's hands.

"Yes. We said we'd support whatever choice you made and we meant it." Simon declared, nodding resolutely as he stared at the witch. His child had made her desire known and he quickly commanded himself to put his personal feelings aside so he could step up as her father. She would need him.

"Thank you, Daddy." Hermione said, smiling at him through the water brimming her eyes. She had not called him this moniker since her first year at Hogwarts and the sentiment melted the stern expression on his face.

"Your mother couldn't be more right about how much we love you, Hermione," he added tenderly.

"Oh! My only girl is going to have a baby. A baby! My only girl is going to be a _mother_!" Darla remarked. Her tears fell over at this point and she tipped her head back as she uselessly flapped her hands at her face. Her crying was the result of numerous emotions that she likely shared with her daughter, including shock, happiness, sorrow, and worry.

"Mum…" uttered Hermione, wiping at her own eyes.

"I'm going to have to get used to the reality of _you_ being a mum soon. It's overwhelming right now," She accepted a cloth napkin from Simon to dry her face, "Oh, my only girl…"

"You're correct in that this won't be easy though, Bunny." Mr. Granger carefully notified, taking control of the conversation and allowing his spouse to gather herself.

"I know," she answered with a grave nod, "I'm not much prepared for a baby. It all happened so _fast_ ; I still feel blindsided."

"Well, your mother and I discussed what we could do- would do- if the outcome you chose happened to be this one."

"Yes. We'll need to make this easier for you. I want to be at hand to help you through the next six months." Darla shared.

"What were things you discussed?" the Muggleborn pondered.

"Providing any financial help that you and the baby may need." Simon responded.

"And being available to go with you when you go to checkups, or being near to answer any questions that you'll have. We also want to be able to go shopping with you for the baby and help you to learn everything that you'll need for him or her." Darla added.

"Yes, and the thing of it is that everything we want to do with you and for you is going to be very difficult if you're living 6,000 kilometers away."

"Quite. So… your father and I want you to move back home, Hermione. That's the issue we talked about most frequently. We said that we'd ask you to come back to Britain if you chose to keep the baby."

Hermione's mouth dropped open while she peered at her parents, her brow scrunched in consternation. She was not the sole one with a big revelation, it seemed.

"Come back?" she eventually posed.

"Yes. It makes the most sense. We can fully support you that way," her father commented.

"And we want you back! We miss you terribly," noted Darla.

"It's only been three months since I left." Hermione pointed out.

"Yes, but your decision changes things. Significantly."

"But… but I can't come back."

"Why not?" Simon pondered.

"Because of Harry!," the witch exclaimed, "I had to uproot my life because of him and now you want me go back as though he's not there? That's, that's not possible. I can't be where he is!"

Simon made a perturbed face as he peered at his daughter and Mrs. Granger began to look concerned as well.

"Hermione," he started in a serious tone, "You're pregnant and _he_ is the father. You've just told us that you want to have the baby… surely you know that you'll have to speak to him again? And sooner than you would have wanted. I assumed this was a consequence of your decision that you were willing to accept."

"Telling him about the pregnancy and baby and living in proximity to him are two _very_ different realities!"

"What do you envision for this pregnancy? For your _child_?" Darla questioned with a furrowed brow.

"Returning to England is not a part of it, I can say that at least." Hermione attested.

"Do you mean to tell us that you plan to stay here in Canada? To give birth here and then _raise_ the baby? Just the two of you?" Simon prompted, sounding incredulous. The Muggleborn looked between her parents in a nervous manner before dropping her gaze and saying nothing. Mr. Granger drew back, shocked, while Darla's countenance became stormy.

"You just said that you're not prepared for the baby. Do you honestly think remaining here alone is the best option?" Simon put forth.

"It's not," Darla said in a brisk tone, "And we won't allow it." This caused Hermione's head to snap up.

"What?" she uttered.

"Just what I said. We won't allow you to stay here."

"Mum… you can't control that. I'm an adult with the power to make my own decisions."

"Then do you understand the implications of the _decision_ to refuse to come home for something this important?" retorted Darla.

"You'd sacrifice support to avoid Harry? Support that you will desperately need as a new, single mother?" Simon inquired.

"Yes- _single_ , Dad! Single because the baby's father made my life _hell_! Or did you two happen to forget why I came to Calgary?" the young woman remarked.

"Do not patronize us, Hermione Jean." Mrs. Granger commanded in a flat voice.

"Think of what you're asking of me, Mum! You want me to be within his reach again." Tears of frustration had appeared in her eyes.

"And think of what you're asking us and denying yourself," her father pleaded, "You'd have no one there for you physically. If you needed help with a sick baby or had to make an unexpected trip somewhere, who would you call? There would be occasional visits and the telephone to stay in touch but that may not be enough. Your child would grow up without his or her family. They would not grow up immersed in their culture. You'd raise your first child without having the people who love you nearby to rely on. We'd miss seeing our first _grandchild_ grow."

Hermione stared at the table once more, letting her frustration (and now sadness) spill over in the form of tears. The waitress returned during this time and had plates for the two women but she apologized to Simon that his meal was not quite finished and assured him it would not be much longer. She was thanked by the family and left them, wondering to herself what had happened to make the youngest member look noticeably upset.

"I can understand staying here while you're pregnant to have more time away from him, but… but to do it indefinitely? Forever?" Mr. Granger pondered, restarting the conversation.

"We need to be with you for this. You have to understand that, Bunny," Darla revealed, having lost her edge, "If you feel that strongly about staying out of England, fine. We can move elsewhere- another country altogether. One on the continent."

"I don't think I'd want another big move, especially so soon." Hermione informed. She took a deep breath and then began to eat her food.

"Then we can move to a region in Britain that's far from London."

"Even if we moved somewhere else in Britain, you and Dad would have to find another house and another practice, yet again. You already went through that after your memories were restored."

"Yes," confirmed Simon.

"I wouldn't want you to have to do that," claimed Hermione.

"You don't want to inconvenience us or move and we don't want to be apart from you… hmm. Let me ask you something, love. When you came to Canada, did you imagine you'd live out the rest of your life here? Was that what you planned?"

The witch fell silent once more.

"I don't think we considered that you'd stay here permanently when we saw you off, Hermione. We… we believed you'd eventually return," her mother relayed, "England is our home. It's _yours_ , and impending motherhood is a valid reason to come home. One person should not keep you from that- from the experience of having your family during such a crucial stage in your life. We know you're afraid but we promised you'd be protected. Harry will _not_ get to you again, not like that."

"And in six months, there will be even more reason for why that promise will be upheld." Simon added.

"Choosing to have the baby also means that you must face the fact that you will have to reestablish contact with its father. Thinking that you can get by without having to just isn't possible, sweet, but we'll be there for that as well."

Hermione remained quiet but she did inhale tremulously as she looked down at her abdomen. She did not speak again until Mr. Granger's food had come out and all three had made progress in eating their entrees.

"I want to stay in Calgary to see out the pregnancy," the brunette mentioned in a low voice, "That will give me time, time that I really need to organize my mind and all of these feelings. I can- will- come home once a month or you can visit me here. We can alternate. As for what happens when it's time for the baby to be born… I will seriously consider returning to England."

The married couple gazed at one another before turning it on Hermione.

"Okay. That's fair." Simon acknowledged with a smile.

"Once a month is a great solution." Darla noted. Right now, their daughter's contemplation was all they could ask for. Her pregnancy would not come to an end for another six months and much could happen during that time frame, and Mrs. Granger silently vowed to convince the younger woman that she needed to be back in the UK by then.

Hermione appeared to relax at their replies and, by the time they finished their meals, the dynamic between the family was easy once more.

"Well I suppose I can stop hiding my stomach now!," the witch stated as they stood to leave after having paid their check, "I had to be certain of my choice before I made it known. I had to avoid any awkward situations where people saw me with a slight bump one day and then nothing the next."

"Oh, your belly!," Darla exclaimed before stepping to Hermione and softly rubbing it, "I can actually do this now!"

"It seemed to just appear overnight. I had a pouch when I was nine weeks but, but it obviously wasn't enough to tip me off because I had only begun to suspect I was pregnant at that point. I just thought I had gained tummy weight from stress!"

"And your tummy will only keep growing. My _grandchild_ will only keep growing!"

She smiled as her mother said something to the swell of her stomach and she looked to her father with a grateful expression as he approached her left and took her hand in his. Nothing seemed insurmountable in moments like this when she was encased by her parents' love, and it made the notion of going back to England not seem like such a grisly thing.

* * *

Hermione said goodbye to her parents on Monday morning and waved at the taxi as it pulled away from her apartment complex's street curve and headed to the airport. She was unhappy to see them go but knew their time apart would be short since their next visit was in four weeks in England. Now that they were gone and the choice to keep the baby was solidified, a myriad of issues were waiting to be analyzed and answered (what would she tell her Canadian acquaintances about the child's father if asked, for example), issues that multiplied dramatically if she thought about going back to Britain, but she currently did not have the energy to think on those issues. Right now she had an appointment with a maternity Healer before she had to go to work and that needed to be where her focus was.

Hermione thought about her Hogwarts friends while she waited for the appointment to start. She had asked Ron to keep quiet about the pregnancy until she arrived at a conclusion about whether or not she was going to keep the baby, but that conclusion was now definitive and she had to think about how she was going to share the news and with whom. She would write Ron, of course, and likely Ginny as well (which would mean most of the Weasleys would learn of the situation), and it'd be nice for Neville and Luna to be aware, but all of the others she knew? How would that play out?

The Healer entered the room before that intimidating question could totally unfurl and it was the same Healer the brunette had seen for her initial appointment. It was an amiable reunion and Hermione got to the point in informing the older woman that she was going to continue with the pregnancy. Healer Quinn expressed happiness at the revelation (and observed the younger witch appeared to be in better spirits than their preceding meeting) and prepared her charge for a more extensive checkup than the first. Hermione had to drink three potions this time and Quinn's wand was waved over her after every batch before there was a paper reading and she was given the next potion. She was also asked specific questions about what she had done and experienced in the past weeks.

"I'm pleased to report that most of your vitals and baby's vitals are good and sound! They're in the ranges we want to see. The only one that stood out of place was your cortisol; those levels are a stitch higher than preferred," the Healer relayed after providing a more formal report.

"I've definitely been under stress. For months now, it seems." Hermione remarked.

"We'll keep a watchful eye on it and I'll send you home with ways to keep those cortisol levels down. Other than that, welcome to the start of your second trimester, Ms. Granger! Tell me- do you know what to expect during this stage?"

The Muggleborn nodded eagerly.

"I bought a book about pregnancy two days after I decided I was going to have the baby and I've plans to buy one or two more. Each chapter of the one I did get corresponds to that week of your pregnancy so I've read the first thirteen chapters. Well, _fourteen_ chapters- the very first was introductory!"

"What did you learn?" Quinn asked with a smile.

"That the second trimester is the easiest one. And, at 13 weeks, the baby is the size of a lemon and developing vocal cords and fingerprints," Hermione attested, "The book mentioned that many of the symptoms that were a part of the first trimester won't be present for the second."

"Yes, the more unpleasant symptoms tend to go away, including that notorious morning sickness. Was that symptom prominent for you?"

"Not really, thank heavens."

"Well, while unlikely, if it _does_ happen to rear its head a bit this trimester, don't be alarmed. That happens for some mothers. Also, heartburn is common for many women during the second part of pregnancy, and prepare yourself for stretch marks." Quinn reported.

"I need to start eating more calories, too, so I hope I'll get lucky and miss out on the heartburn," the young woman said with a grimace.

"Yes, increase that caloric intake. I'll send you home with some recipes that you can enjoy and will benefit baby's development."

"I'd like that, thank you. The book has food recommendations but not recipes."

"This is also the last trimester where there are no transportation restrictions. While Apparition is not advised past the first trimester, it's still possible during the second. Once you enter the third trimester, however, the only magical mode that you can use is Portkey. Anything else is too risky," the Healer notified. _So no Floo, brooms, or Apparition, then,_ Hermione thought while she nodded, _and I can't fly by aeroplane once I'm eight months._

"When can we determine the baby's sex?" she questioned next.

"Confidently? At 20 weeks. We're not any more advanced in knowing _that_ than the No-Majes, it would seem."

"I'm still getting used to hearing that term. The differences in dialects..."

Quinn smiled while she fiddled with her equipment and cleaned up a bit.

"May I ask if the father is wizard or No-Maj?" she delicately posed.

"He's… he's a wizard," muttered Hermione, averting her gaze, "A powerful one, in many ways."

"Then may your magics blend into this child harmoniously."

Hermione peered at the other witch in surprise and despondency at the blessing before she shut her eyes and murmured a meek "thank you."

* * *

It took Harry ten whole days to pull himself together after deciding that he needed to find Hermione. It made sense that he struggled to establish a new level of functioning after numerous weeks of inactivity and numbness, and sometimes during those ten days the motivation to reclaim the brunette witch did not seem like it would be enough to get him over his hump. He managed it, however, and, with a fresh haircut that symbolized his resurgence, he strategized how to begin the search.

The first step he took was to send a short letter to her via owl. It seemed to be the easiest start and, if the owl successfully delivered the message, it would mean that she was still in the UK or a country in close proximity, and Harry would not have to look too far. He, of course, did not write as himself; he wrote as an avid yet reasonable fan and used a simple spell to camouflage his handwriting. Once the bird was off to make its delivery, he considered a second step in the search. Waiting for the feathery messenger to return was too insufficient so Harry considered what the next step would be.

He needed intel from her social circle, frankly, but he was not prepared to do it himself. Hermione's kin would see him a mile away if he attempted to gather it and they would refuse to cooperate, either by ignoring or threatening him. (And he was wary of being threatened because the outcome would be unpropitious, as he knew he would _not_ back down). Harry also did not want to be in public so visibly because it was a task he still found burdensome and distasteful. Consequently, the press would be worked into a tizzy if he was spotted again after his (and Hermione's simultaneous) disappearance. No- getting information himself was not an option right now but there were others he could enlist… others who would do it for a fee.

Harry rather grudgingly made contact with one or two not-so-old associates to carry out the second step in the search. They were surprised and then happy to hear from him but he expediently made it known that needed them for business and nothing more, in order to quelch any ideas that they would engage in leisurely pursuits as they had in the past. One of these associates was Klein, first name unimportant, and he was the wizard Harry chose to retain. Klein was a former Auror who had worked in two different countries and, from his nondescript tales of why he was no longer employed in that field, he had been too noncompliant (aka, too rogue) to continue down that path. He made a living now from the skill set he garnered during his Auror days and he was impartial to whom he sold his services, a fact that led him to work with people he would have once apprehended.

Having never stepped foot inside Harry Potter's home (and not knowing anyone else whom had), Klein was very curious for their first meeting at Grimmauld Place but he effectively masked it like the professional he was. Klein knew of Hermione Granger's rapid disappearance from Britain like every other magical person but he would have never thought he'd be recruited to locate her, especially from someone who should have known why she fled and where. Accordingly, Harry was intentionally obscure when revealing why he was looking for her.

"Things got a bit rocky between us before she left so, naturally, she didn't tell me anything about where she was going. That's why I need help."

Klein accepted the answer for what it was, knowing better than to dig. The only questions he asked when working were ones that needed answers so he could successfully do his job.

Harry provided him with two main targets during the first meeting- the Grangers and Ron- and they discussed what the Auror could do.

"Do you want me to tag any other Weasleys?" Klein wondered.

"No. There are too many of them and I want to keep this focused," Harry remarked, "Ron is the best bet for information, anyway. Ginny might be as well but don't bother with her."

"Got it."

"Tracking her parents will be easier since they're Muggle."

"Aye," agreed Klein, "What do they do?"

"They're dentists. Do you know what that is?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I do."

"Good. I'll give you the address of their home and practice."

"And Weasley has that joke shop, of course," noted Klein.

"Yes, and it's there that I'd like you to tag him, or anytime he's out in London. Avoid his family home, the Burrow," directed Harry.

"What about the Ministry? Do you want me to dig around there?"

"No need. My elf will look through her Ministry records to see if there's information of where she's gone."

"Okay. That would've cost you more, anyway," the Auror mentioned with a grin. Harry waved him off.

"When can you start?" he questioned.

"Tomorrow. I'll Disillusion myself when tracking Weasley or use Polyjuice if I decide to interact with him. I've also got an Invisibility Cloak I can use but I think the magic on it is just starting to fade. I can use that for her parents... need to get a new one..."

Harry would never offer his true Invisibility Cloak to anyone so he remained silent. Instead, he brought up communication.

"How will we keep in contact?"

"How do you want?" Klein pondered.

"Can you conjure a Patronus?" the dark haired wizard inquired.

"No, unfortunately. It's one spell I never got."

Harry frowned, feeling unimpressed by this man's lack of ability.

"Fire calls, then. Leave the message with my elf in case I'm not here," he instructed.

"Will do, Potter!," Klein said with a smile, "I'll give updates as soon as I get them. Anything else?"

"No. That's it for now."

"Well then I look forward to snooping for you, my good wizard!"

As it turned out, Klein had the first important development for Harry within a week. He chose to familiarize himself with the Grangers first, their neighborhood, work schedules, and any general day to day errands they ran. After five days of observing, he noticed an oddity in that, on this particular day (Friday), the pair's car was in the driveway but they did not exit or enter the house for the entirety of his watchful shift. This was unusual because if their car was gone they were always gone with it, so he Disillusioned himself and walked around the home and peered in the windows for signs of life. Besides a menacing looking cat in one of the windows that appeared to stare right at him, there were no signs so he stopped his spying for the day and went home.

Klein called Harry two days later and had a follow up report to his Friday findings.

"They're gone. They're not at home, I'm sure of it," Klein shared from the fireplace, "Their car is there but they aren't. It's been completely silent since I got there on Friday. I went to check this morning as well and still nothing."

"They're not home…" Harry repeated as his mind began to spin in thought.

"Nope. Seems like they've gone on holiday… perhaps visiting your witch, wherever she is. Didn't hear anything about a trip during the first few days I watched them, though, and I've only been inside their dental practice, not the house."

"But we can change that now- hearing them! If they're gone and the house and car are unattended, we can make _sure_ we hear something going forward."

"Planting something," Klein stated in a thoughtful tone.

"Yes." Harry said in an earnest voice, thinking of the appropriate devices Klein likely had.

"I thought about it yesterday so I'll go ahead and do it, then. I'll do the car."

"Great. Perfect."

"One more thing…" the Auror commenced, suddenly sounding unsure.

"What?" the younger wizard prompted.

"There's a cat... big, orange one. It may not seem like it's worth mentioning because it's a bloody cat, but I swear it can see me. And not only see me- it seems like it knows what I'm doing! I know I sound barking but-"

"No," Harry sharply said, cutting him off, "No, I get it. Do _not_ underestimate that cat, understand? He's part Kneazle."

"Right. And I'll take care of the car." Klein noted with a nod. Harry jerked his head in some approximation of a reciprocal nod then ended the call.

Accordingly, two days later on Tuesday evening, Klein had the first important breakthrough for Harry. Kreacher received the fire call and retrieved his master from another part of the home to bring him to the main sitting room where Klein's head sat among the flames. When the Auror spotted the other man, his expression became supercilious.

"Yeah?" Harry pondered by way of a cheerful greeting.

"The Grangers came back yesterday morning and, today, I got something useful," Klein began, sporting a wide grin and causing Harry to freeze in place, "Canada. Harry, your witch is in Canada."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know 'No-Maj' is the 'Muggle' equivalent that wizards in the United States use but, for the sake of this story, I'm including Canada, too, since they're both in North America. Also, Harry will be featured much more as the plot progresses so don't worry.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was intentionally vague with the timeline of Stone Heart but I wanted to give myself a general sense of when this story is occurring, so, I combed through Heart and these are the following estimates: Hermione reconnected with Harry in November 1998 and they conceived in December 1999; thus, when Hermione finds out she's pregnant at ten weeks, it is March 2000.

It did not take long after Klein unearthed that Hermione was in Canada for him to learn from her parents that she was in Calgary, specifically. About a week, in fact. When he delivered this news to Harry, he was somewhat nonplussed that the dark haired wizard's next directive was to shift total focus to Ron. Finding out where precisely the brunette had gone was a colossal breakthrough and Harry wanted to change focus? It made little sense to Klein but he was not going to question the younger man- he knew better- and so his attention switched to Ron.

Harry, meanwhile, had an abundance of feelings with which to contend after learning that Hermione was in Calgary. There was surprise, satisfaction, anger and hope, but only one emotion was behind his demand for Klein to leave the Grangers be and monitor Ron. Only one emotion was the reason he was having an ongoing war of words with himself and was why he was uncertain about what to do next.

That emotion was worry.

Oddly enough, Harry had not thought through the next step in his plan of action upon discovering Hermione's whereabouts. She was in Canada but how would he get her back? What would he say to her? Would he write her or merely travel to North America and confront her? One side of him maintained that he did not have to think on it- he should merely let instinct and impulse guide him. This side asserted he did not need to say anything to her apart from that she belonged in England and she could not leave him like this. This side also maintained that he would ensure she returned (with him, to him) by any means necessary.

Conversely, another side of Harry, one that had really emerged after her cavalier departure, insisted that this peremptory manner would most definitely not work. This side predicted disaster and it reminded him that this attitude is what caused Hermione to originally break from him. Did he want to risk her disappearing permanently by attempting to subjugate her? This side pushed her goodbye letter to the forefront of his mind and that never failed to stop him in his tracks. But… but what was he supposed to do, then, in order to have her back? Was he supposed to apologize? And for what? What exactly should he have remorse over?

Harry, however, knew there were things for which he was sorry. A few things. And both sides (Old Harry versus New Harry) could at least recognize this, although they clashed over where the blame went. To start, he was surely sorry that Hermione was gone. His life had changed for the worst since her absence and it had disabled him, which was unfair and eye opening. It proved he still very much needed the Muggleborn witch in spite of distancing himself from literally everyone in his life. Harry was also sorry she had ever dated Heathcliff, and New Harry surmised that her ex-boyfriend was the one to blame for the current situation. If he had kept his damned eyes and hands off her, Harry would not have had to interfere and get rid of him. Conversely, Old Harry stated _he_ was at fault for the current situation and should be remorseful for ruining Hermione's relationship, something that had brought her happiness. New Harry retorted that he would not have had to break them apart if she had not gotten involved with the other man and started to pull away from him; New Harry added that Heathcliff was the one to cheat so he obviously had not been a stand up guy to begin with. Old Harry pointed out that if he had not dismissed and ignored Hermione so often last year she would have not sought attention and affection elsewhere. On a roll with his argument, Old Harry noted that his abysmal treatment of her was the true catalyst for all of this. He insisted that she did not run solely because of his hand in destroying her relationship and maintained that he had been setting the stage for her grand exit long before the final blow.

Old Harry then asked what Hermione had done to deserve his persistent, cold treatment, apart from showcasing her unwavering loyalty to him. And New Harry, so quick on the uptake in offering explanations that absolved him/them, could never give a true rebuttal. Half baked replies of "it was entertaining" or "she didn't always leave me alone like I wanted" sounded weak and hollow so they were never fully voiced. Consequently, Old Harry did not have an answer to this question, either, and it left Harry as a whole to dolorously conclude that he was merely broken. That the damage, amplified after dealing with Voldemort, was irreversible.

Uncomfortable and frustrated by the proverbial tennis match that occurred between the two sides of his conscience, Harry put Hermione temporarily on pause in his mind. Until he decided on a satisfactory approach to engage her, he was going to let her be and hone in on Ron. There was immense relief at finally knowing where she was, as well, so that helped pacify the fact that he was indecisive about his next step. Additionally, he considered that focusing on Ron at this point (and any information he had) could be fruitful in that it gave way to ideas on how to move forward, an expectation that was blown out of the water three weeks after Klein had been stalking the red headed wizard. The development he had to deliver this time was jarring and, knowing Harry's propensity to be volatile, he was not filled with gusto to share it.

"Well, erm, I've got something else, another big piece," the Auror stated, standing in Grimmauld's main sitting room and facing the younger man. He was smiling, albeit nervously, but Harry did not appear to notice, instead feeling mildly pleased at the promise of news.

"I see you were money well spent," Harry said with a tame smirk, a drink in hand, "You're apparently good at what you do, Klein."

"Ta, Potter."

"So what it is, then?"

"Well, I learned of it this morning. The twin brought it up while he was in the back room with Weasley- with Ron," Klein commenced, "He was talking about the weekend, about Sunday, and asked his brother how he thought it would go with Hermione."

"Hermione? The weekend- they're going to visit her?" inquired Harry with a taut brow and a suddenly taut body. Right away, his brain began to make rudimentary, possible plans but was halted by the other man shaking his head.

"No, they're not. I wasn't able to hear the entire conversation because one of the employees interrupted, but, but the twin asked Ron how your witch would do seeing everyone again. I didn't get who 'everyone' is, but it seems that Hermione will be in England this weekend."

The glass in Harry's hand cracked audibly, resulting in a smooth, fine line despite the fact that he was standing stock still, and Klein could only wince in response.

* * *

Hermione's 14th week of pregnancy was a rush. While she did not wear clothing that highlighted her modest baby bump, she did stop wearing clothing that camouflaged it and it only took a couple days before it was noticed by others. Her coworkers gushed over her pregnancy and posed numerous questions, which included how far along she was, why she remained quiet, and curiosity about the father. She knew they meant well and answered the sensitive questions as skillfully, yet vaguely, as she could. She reported that the father was in England but wasn't it funny that the topic of conversation was always directed elsewhere when more queries about him or if she would remain in Canada came up? Despite some of the awkwardness, Hermione enjoyed the positive attention from her coworkers because it was support- support of her decision to have the child.

The brunette's appetite also returned during this week and kept steady, something that thrilled her, and she began to buy and apply lotion for stretch marks.

During the 15th week, things took a dip when heartburn manifested. It was her most unpleasant symptom thus far but she reasoned this was her penance for escaping the first trimester without bouts of nausea. Food cravings (and aversions) emerged for Hermione as well, and she quickly found that she ravenously desired grilled artichokes or cheese on apple slices, or she would gag if she caught the smell of curry or grapefruit. Her neighbor Debbie was often an accomplice in fetching her food she wanted and bringing it to her apartment where they would, typically, eat together and chat. On Thursday evening of this week, Debbie came over with beef filled pasta (a dish Hermione had obsessed over since the previous day but did not have the ingredients to make), the third time since the weekend that she had made a food run for the witch.

"I can't thank you enough for doing this again," Hermione noted when they were nearly finished eating, "I wish you'd let me give you money for more than just the food."

"Not at all, doll. Friends are supposed to help you. And you're expecting!" Debbie answered.

"I am, but I'll not use that as an excuse to get others to do my bidding."

"I would."

They both laughed before a spell of comfortable silence descended and they finished the pasta.

"Have you gotten any pictures yet?" wondered Debbie.

"Of what?" the younger woman replied.

"Yourself! Your pregnancy! To capture the growth."

"Oh! Erm, no… no, I haven't."

"You're practically four months- this should be captured!," Debbie avidly insisted, "At least once. This part of your life should be captured."

"I-" Hermione commenced, feeling somewhat taken aback.

"I'll be right back!"

Her friend then shot up from the couch and hurriedly left the apartment. The Muggleborn did not have much time to consider the idea of photographing herself while pregnant because Debbie was back before she knew it and had a digital camera in her hand. Still caught off guard with the whole scenario, Hermione allowed herself to stand and be positioned, cradling the bottom of her swell in her left hand and placing her right hand gently on top. Debbie took three shots and presented them on the camera's screen afterward, and Hermione surprised them both when she started crying not a few seconds later, overwhelmed by the simple yet powerful images before her.

Week 16 of the pregnancy was eventful for Hermione. She sent two copies of one of Debbie's photos to her parents and Ron and kept two copies for herself. Pain from her expanding stomach led her to engage in stretching most mornings and she found that it helped her stress levels, too. She was excited to learn from the primary pregnancy book she read that the baby's ability to hear had kicked in so she took to speaking out loud more and addressing the child. Hermione asked them if they were going to be a girl or boy and what names they might like. She asked them opinions on what the two of them should eat for meals and collaborated with them on work projects. She read to them and affectionately scolded them for being the reason why her breasts had outgrown most of her bras and why her hair, of which she already had an abundance, was lengthening more than she needed.

Conversely, speaking to the child illuminated to Hermione just how fast they were developing, and this notion made her think of the fact that Harry was missing the milestones of this pregnancy. It also reminded her that she would have to make a choice in a matter of months whether to stay or leave Canada. Although they brought down her relative good mood of the past few weeks, she took time to (finally) contemplate and not avoid them.

She first pondered what she would do when she made her bi-monthly trips back home- would she try to hide her pregnancy? Granted, Hermione had no plans to be out and about in London when she did make her visits so was it necessary? On the other hand, would she only want to be confined to her parents' home, the Burrow, or Ron's apartment? If not, could she risk being seen after disappearing from wizarding Britain and then being seen pregnant on top of it? The witch concluded that she would glamour her head on her visits to England on the off chance she went into London, especially because a pregnant belly could not be hidden by magic beyond the second trimester. This solution made Hermione feel more at ease because it would allow her freedom to move about when she was home and be directly privy to current happenings in magical society (including, perhaps, happenings or sightings that involved Harry).

This dilemma was much easier to process than the dilemma of her place of residence once the baby was born. The possibility of returning to Britain…. What would happen? How would the wizarding population react? Hermione postulated that she could lie and claim she left because of the pregnancy but she would be asked why, and what would she say to that? She would then be asked who the father was and what would she say to _that_? Would she lie more, assert that it was no one's business? And above all else- what in the world was she going to tell the father himself? How in God's name was she supposed to reveal to Harry that he would be a parent in five months?

Hermione had no answers. She had no answers at this point so she shut the door on those thoughts and told herself she still had time to keep the door closed. She had more imminent matters that required her attention, anyway, such as her 17th week starting next week and her corresponding trip to England on that weekend, during which she would meet with friends she had not seen in months.

* * *

Ron gazed stoically at the picture of his best friend that was cradled in his hands (much like the woman in the photo was cradling her stomach). The red head was taking a 15 minute break in the back room of the joke shop and immersed in thought, a common occurrence within the past number of weeks. This reflective state of mind had defined him since learning of Hermione's pregnancy and really established itself once he discovered she was going to keep the baby. That had been four weeks ago now and Ron's feelings about the decision, while having muted slightly in intensity, had not decreased in quantity. A month later and it continued to be an overwhelming thing to process at times, which he knew signified that he had not fully come to terms with it yet. The fact that he had not seen or spoken to Hermione in person since she informed him via letter played a role in that, accordingly, and he admittedly had not been emotionally prepared to do so. However, that would be rectified in a matter of days since the young woman would be in England for a weekend visit.

Ron both feared and looked forward to seeing Hermione. The photo he held in his hands was a shot of her two weeks ago when she had been 15 weeks, and it dumbfounded him to see her bump; it would have only grown further in the last two weeks. Ron loved and missed this witch constantly but his feelings about her pregnancy (and the respective father) were just so muddled. Being made aware that she had chosen to become a mother seemed to be branded in his memory and was nearly as fresh as learning it the first time.

_George entered the kitchen and stopped short when he noticed his younger brother at the compact table with his head in his hands, hunched over. The older wizard took a moment to observe the scene and quickly deduced from his stance that Ron was distressed. George frowned in concern as he began a run down of possible reasons… if it had anything to do with their family or Wheezes he would have also been made aware, so those two options were not likely. It could have to do with his friends, his fledgling (second) relationship with Lavender, but he typically only got this upset over a couple friends… two friends… one who now lived in Canada and the other who was no longer a friend._

" _What's wrong?" George simply questioned, vowing to listen to his sibling no matter the issue. He walked closer to the table as Ron's head snapped up._

" _George," he said, sounding surprised. George gave a nod and pulled out a chair._

" _Something going on?" He saw that Ron's eyes were not red yet they appeared troubled, and there was paper in front of him._

_Ron took time to answer. He stared at the paper and sighed tremendously before speaking again._

" _It's Hermione."_

" _What's happened? Is she okay?" George inquired with a furrowed brow._

" _She's, she's safe. That's not the problem," reported Ron, waving at the paper that his brother realized was a letter._

" _That's good, then."_

" _Yeah. It's just…"_

" _Just?..." prompted George when the sentence did not finish. Ron pursed his lips. Hermione_ had _given him permission to tell the Weasleys, and Luna and Neville. She'd claimed she would write to Ginny herself, consequently, and shared that she would speak to all of them during her next trip home, so he no longer had to hold her secret. He was meant to be her messenger, in fact._

" _She's pregnant." Ron revealed in a strained voice._

" _She's_ what _?!"_

" _Pregnant. She told me when she was here a couple weeks ago but I swore to keep quiet until she decided what to do about it. Well, she's decided."_

" _A-A-And?" George stuttered, blinking multiple times._

" _She's going to have it." Ron added.  
_

_George gawked at his sibling before peering at the letter in disbelief._

" _Hermione?_ Pregnant?," he slowly pondered, " _And_ _she's… she's going to have it? Hermione… a_ mother _? Now?!"_

" _Yeah," came the mumbled response. George took time for himself to process the revelation and then said:_

" _So you're… upset." Upset was a loaded word. It was a statement and a question, and included jealous and hurt in its definition._

" _Not, not just for the fact that she's pregnant, no," Ron explained, shaking his head, "It was hard to swallow, yes, but… most of me thought she wouldn't go through with it."_

" _Then it's because she's keeping it." George predicted._

" _It's because it's_ Harry's _, and what that means for her since she_ is _keeping it."_

_It was silent. George paled and looked at Ron while Ron's face became pained and he looked at Hermione's letter._

" _By Merlin's magic, this is fucking hard," he stated._

_His head went back into his hands._

Telling Arthur and Molly had not been fun. George accompanied Ron to the Burrow for the task and the latter gave his parents Hermione's letter to read in order to jumpstart the conversation. Molly dissolved into tears afterward and it took almost half an hour before Ron could have an intelligible conversation with her and Arthur about the matter. He assured them the pregnancy was not the cause for the brunette leaving Britain, they appeared consoled to know they would be able to see her in a few weeks, and they all lamented over Harry being the father. The Weasleys had countless questions but knew Ron did not have the answers, and understood they would have to wait until Hermione's visit before they could receive them.

One advantage that came from discussing the pregnancy with Molly and Arthur is that the pair shared the news with Bill and Fleur, relieving Ron of this duty. Hermione had developed a friendly relationship with Fleur after the war ended and the French witch, upon hearing about the pregnancy, was fretful. As a mother to one child with another on the way, she was concerned how the younger woman was handling this life stage, especially since she was not surrounded by her support group. As such, Fleur wrote to Hermione and declared that she wanted to be a resource for her in whatever capacity, something that touched the Muggleborn.

The third and final woman in the Weasley clan was not as forthcoming about her reaction to the pregnancy as the rest of her kin. Hermione had written to Ginny, as promised, and Ginny sent a reply, but Ron did not know much about their exchange. The red headed witch did not appear interested in discussing her feelings and thoughts with Ron or anyone else; she had been stunned, naturally, yet she appeared quiet and detached when this subject arose. Ron, however, did not have the energy to dig deeper with his sister since he had his own array of feelings to sort through.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, laying the photo of Hermione on the table. He then frowned when he remembered an article that had been in the _Prophet_ the previous day- one that excitedly proclaimed there had been a sighting of Harry the prior Sunday.

Harry had vanished when Hermione had. In the months since then, Ron had frequently wondered what the dark haired wizard thought about her absence and how he was handling it. He would not privy to such knowledge, conversely, because his ex-best friend had not made a single attempt to seek out him and he had no reason to do the same. Of course, Harry's banishment was not going to last forever, and the child inside of Hermione would bring him snugly back into the picture.

Ron scowled. The notion of Harry reentering Hermione's life was the main issue he had with the entire situation. She had sacrificed majorly to rid of him and now he would be allowed to waltz back in without consequence. It truly worried Ron. His claim to support her had not been futile but he was more anxious about protecting her. Would being a parent be enough to change Harry, or revert him back to who he once was? The pureblood was not willing to count on it and that made him uneasy.

It had been extremely difficult to lose Harry, the hardest thing of all. It had been difficult to learn that Hermione was sleeping with him and had felt like a kick in the face. Nevertheless, it was more difficult to know that she was pregnant by him, and acknowledging that she was keeping the baby was nearly as difficult as losing Harry to begin with. What was more, Harry did not deserve Hermione. Not _this_ Harry. He did not deserve her so what right did he have fathering her child? He had acted nothing short of disgusting and still gotten that privilege. How was that fair? And although Ron worried about how Harry would treat Hermione after his reintroduction, he also worried about the indomitable force that was Hermione's attachment to Harry. The pureblood worried that she would fall into old patterns involving Harry, that she would struggle to say no to him again. That this attachment would have her tolerate treatment by him that was noxious and would further injure her spirit.

Of course, perhaps the current variable of a baby would help prevent this. Hermione would have a child this time- _their_ child- and perhaps her maternal instinct to protect it would keep her from repeating the past. There would be a new bond that surpassed that of Harry and Hermione, at last, and it would permit the brunette to escape from under his thumb and stand up to him.

Ron desperately wished this would be the case but he was no Seer and could not be certain. The only thing he knew without a doubt was that everything was simply too complicated and he was tired of thinking. It was a very good thing he was seeing Lavender tonight because the pureblood needed a reprieve from the tragedy that shrouded Hermione and Harry.

* * *

Hermione managed to secure a Portkey for Friday afternoon at 3PM. She did not mind that it meant she arrived to England quite late, at 10PM, because it granted her more time overall to be at home. Consequently, she bid her parents goodnight a mere hour later as she was exhausted, the diminished lack of energy one symptom of pregnancy she thoroughly disliked. The following day (after Darla convinced her daughter to take a picture capturing week 17 of her pregnancy), the family went browsing for items for the baby. The intention was to look and get ideas as opposed to buying anything, but they were not above making a purchase (in gender neutral colors, of course) if they found something they loved. During the evening, the Grangers ventured to Cambridge where they watched a play and enjoyed a fine dinner; these were two activities that the family routinely engaged in during Hermione's youth and it filled her with joy to experience them with her parents once more.

Saturday had been a lovely day and allowed her to forget about her nerves for Sunday, the day she was going to the Burrow for lunch to meet with her wizarding kin. Simon and Darla felt unsettled to have Hermione out of their sight and in the wizarding world (where Harry was) for hours at a time, but she guaranteed them that she would be okay and surrounded by people

"I'm safe at the Burrow and I'll be far from alone. Ron will escort me back as well, okay? I'll be fine," she relayed.

Hermione repeated that she would be fine to herself as she Flooed to the Weasley house at 2PM. Ron was the first person she saw when she shakily stepped out of the hearth but a glance to his left and she took in Luna and Neville. She heard Molly let out half a wail before she could take a step or before she saw the matriarch, and then everything was just an emotional blur of greetings after that. The meal was held outside and started 20 minutes after the brunette arrived, with Percy, apart from Charlie, being the lone Weasley who was not present. The eleven wizards and witches did not broach the subject of Hermione's pregnancy while they ate since they had more than enough to fill her in on, namely what their lives looked like in the months that had passed. It was refreshing to not have to delve into that during her first hour with them but, obviously, it did not- could not- last.

While they waited to digest their lunch before consuming one of Molly's tasty pies, the evidence that was Hermione's belly could be avoided no longer. The Muggleborn had to recount the story of discovering her pregnancy and answer a volley of questions surrounding her thought process and emotions. She knew the questions were asked out of concern and even confusion but some of them merely flooded her. Fortunately, Luna, Ron, and Fleur were her defense squad and would intervene by rebuking questions or deflecting responses for them if she was too overcome. They discussed the pregnancy as a group for a little over an hour and nearly all the women showed some level of emotion, in the form of unshed or fallen tears, at one point. The conversation (mostly) ended when Molly wiped her eyes with a handkerchief and got up to retrieve the pie from the kitchen. It floated behind her when she returned outside and she had a cup of tea in her hands meant specifically for Hermione.

"I know this is not going to be as… as simple as it should be, dear," the older witch stated, wrapping Hermione's hands around the cup while Bill set the pie on the table, "But we love you and are going to love _any_ child that you have, no matter the circumstances. A baby is a beautiful gift. I should know." Hermione thanked Mrs. Weasley with a bright smile as her residual tears began to dry.

"If you need us for anything, we're here." Arthur proclaimed. The brunette nodded and felt Neville grab her hand.

"Of course we are." George added.

By 5PM, everyone had gone home except for Hermione, Ron, and Ginny, who lived with Luna. They remained outside while Molly and Arthur bumbled inside, giving the trio its privacy.

"I hope that wasn't too much for you, Hermione," Ginny mentioned in a somber tone, "Talking about it with everyone… perhaps feeling interrogated."

"I know that's not how anyone meant it. It may have been a lot to manage at times but I'm not upset or shaken by it. I needed to see all of you, needed to explain," the brunette replied. She leaned against Ron's arm that was draped across her shoulders.

"It's all a bit mad. You left so quickly and now, the first time we get to see you since then, you're over four months _pregnant_. And… and by _Harry_. I mean, he...," She stopped herself and shook her head with a sigh, "It's just hard to take in."

"I know it is, Ginny."

It was silent for a handful of moments while Ginny peered at the part of Hermione's stomach she could see with the table serving as a barrier.

"It's hard not seeing you, and now your life is going to change. We miss you," the red head shared, moving her gaze to the Muggleborn's face.

"I miss you too." Hermione earnestly reported, willing herself to be done with crying.

"Are you… do you _really_ not know if you'll come back?"

Hermione slowly shook her head, feeling suddenly low with the reminder of that specific prospect. The idea always seemed infinitely more wretched when she was in the UK with her loved ones.

Ginny's lips thinned and she stated:

"Taking care of the baby by yourself in Canada seems completely unfair. It wasn't your plan to move _or_ have a kid, so to have to do both alone? Harry took more than enough from you. He shouldn't be able to take more." The younger woman's voice was gruff by the end and it surprised Hermione. It was a display of Ginny's typical spark, something that had been missing today.

"No progress with ideas on how to tell him?" Ron delicately asked after a pause.

"I've given it thought but… n-not yet. My fear hasn't budged out of the way," his best friend attested. He squeezed her shoulder.

"You wouldn't have to tell him alone, or even in person, if you didn't want to. You can do anything you want to make it more comfortable for _you_." Ginny offered.

"Yeah. Just because you're having a kid with him, doesn't mean he has a right to _you_ ," the wizard informed.

Hermione nodded at her friends, smiling slightly. They were right.

"So… what's it like having someone live inside of you?" inquired Ginny, making a face yet grinning. The other two laughed and Hermione's hands settled on her bump.

"Very odd," she noted in a breezy tone. She then launched into a comprehensive account about the novelties of pregnancy while the red heads listened devoutly.

Hermione left England at noon the very next day and Klein had something to deliver to Harry. The Auror's work for Harry had continued over the weekend. He tracked Ron and George but their Saturday had not included anything out of their ordinary routine(s). He gathered that they were going to their childhood home on Sunday, presumably to meet with Hermione, but he did not attempt to spy on them there since Harry had instructed him to steer clear of the Burrow. Klein had gone to the Granger residence on Saturday during the early evening as well, a stop he made of his own accord. He'd wanted to confirm that Hermione was present but the dark house and missing car told him the family was not at home, so he left after just an hour. (The device he had planted in their car was also no longer any good since it had a life span of three weeks. He would have to replace it whenever Harry instructed him to observe the Grangers once more).

Consequently, Monday morning saw Klein back at the Grangers', at a later hour that would better ensure Simon and Darla had already left for their practice. The Auror was vigilant of his surroundings so he could be on the lookout for the big, orange cat, but he got what he wanted after 30 minutes and left rapidly thereafter. He felt some trepidation that Harry would be angry because he had ignored his order to focus solely on Ron, and George by extension, but he also thought the dark haired wizard would benefit from this deviation. It might provide Harry with immense solace, vindication or determination, and it _might_ result in more Galleons for Klein.

Regardless, Klein delivered his surprise via owl to avoid the chance of having Harry blow up on him in person. When Harry received the small package less than 45 minutes after it was sent, he was curious (and rather suspicious) before he rightfully assumed it was from Klein. Opening it with deft fingers, he found a photograph. Turning it over, his teeth bit down on his tongue as his heart stopped.

It was Hermione.

Hermione, the left side of her upper body visible through a partially open window of her parents' house.

Hermione, carrying Crookshanks and looking content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 will be a doozy.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify: the picture of Hermione that Harry got from Klein last chapter did NOT show her belly (Crookshanks was in the way); thus, he still doesn't know that she's pregnant.

Hermione's feet swung mindlessly above the floor as she sat on the exam table and held her mother's hand. Mrs. Granger, meanwhile, peered around the room with marked intrigue, seeing if she could spot anything new in the vicinity she had missed up to this point.

It was a Friday afternoon and the two women sat in Calgary's wizarding hospital waiting for the witch's maternity Healer to return to the room. Darla had landed in Canada at 9AM that morning. Hermione had taken the day off in anticipation of her mother's early arrival, and the only reason Darla had come on Friday instead of Saturday was because they planned for her to join her daughter for her monthly prenatal appointment. Originally, Hermione's Healer appointment was scheduled for Tuesday of that week but, once Darla discovered that she was getting checked a few days before her visit, she begged the younger woman to change it so that she could attend as well. Healer Quinn had been delighted to meet Mrs. Granger and Mrs. Granger was delighted to not only be there for her child but also be in a wizarding hospital as well.

It was the end of Hermione's 21st week of pregnancy and she found it hard to believe that she was already five months along. The most exciting aspect of this fact was that the brunette could now know her baby's gender; she was to learn this as soon as Healer Quinn returned, actually! It was enlivening.

They had already discussed how the past four weeks had been for Hermione during the first part of the appointment and her and baby's vitals had already been taken. (Quinn also happily noted that her charge's stress levels had dropped some). Week 18, the week following her trip to England, had been a difficult seven days for Hermione. She continued to speak to the baby regularly during that time but it was a bit disorienting adjusting to the steady weight she was gaining. Additionally, she found it annoying (and inconvenient) that she was peeing so frequently and, most troublesome of all, her abdomen pain increased. The witch had been unable to sleep one night because of it and dejectedly wished someone was there to help comfort her. The pain persisted during the 19th week and surpassed heartburn as her worst symptom; to alleviate it, Hermione added taking walks to her regimen alongside stretching. Her food cravings and aversions became more pronounced and she discovered peanut butter ice cream was her savior while onions, which she typically liked, became her mortal enemy. Conversely, the most noteworthy part of week 19 was that she experienced fluttering: the first signs of her baby's movement.

When week 20 commenced, Hermione was shocked to recognize that she was halfway done with her pregnancy. The brunette forced herself to focus on this and _not_ the fact that Harry was still unaware and uninvolved, so she chose to celebrate the mark by getting a foot massage (which had been amazing). She was amused to read about the baby's developing taste buds and overwhelmed when she felt a very obvious kick from the baby, a step up from the mild movements of fluttering. Hermione thought she had perhaps imagined it so she stayed stock still and waited for something else to happen, and when another jab came two minutes later she gasped and ran for the phone. She dialed the Granger residence and sobbed into the receiver about the development when her father answered. Simon quickly got his wife to join the call and their daughter's crying continued for ten minutes. It had been an emotional yet fulfilling conversation and she was happy she was able to share something so monumental with her parents.

Accordingly, the first four days of the current week resulted in Hermione continuing to feel thrilled whenever the baby moved within her and speaking to it when it did. She got a much needed haircut on Wednesday and Debbie had taken another picture of her just the previous evening, which she planned to send to Ron once more in this week's letter. And now- now she was about to find out if she was going to give birth to a girl or a boy (which would also go in Ron's letter). She had already told everyone that she had no preference for the gender and she meant it.

"All right then, dear!," Quinn exclaimed as she walked back inside the room. Both Granger women perked up, "Are you ready?"

"Yes." Hermione said with a nod. Darla, who was standing, squeezed her hand and smiled.

"I am going to hold my wand over her abdomen and place my hand there, then the image of the baby will be projected before us." The Healer shared this information with Darla and she swiftly nodded.

"It's like a hologram of a sonogram instead of a photograph," the young witch further explained. She had found it impressive when it was first done two months ago.

Quinn placed her right hand on Hermione's stomach and used her left hand to hold her wand directly in front before she uttered an incantation.

"Oh!" Darla noted seconds later with a gasp.

A sizable, three dimensional image of an unmistakable fetus in shades of blue appeared in the air and all three women smiled. Mrs. Granger's free hand went to her mouth as she stared at her developing grandchild. It _was_ like a picture sonogram but so much… better. Clearer.

"There's our healthy little one." Quinn mentioned.

"Hello sweetheart," greeted Hermione. Darla switched her gaze from the baby to _her_ baby, and she leaned over with tears in her eyes to kiss Hermione's forehead.

"Now let's see if we can move this around to confirm the gender..."

The baby's legs were posed so that its pelvis was covered but the Healer took her wand and, slowly, raised it higher across her patient's bump. Fascinated, Darla watched as the angle of the image changed and roamed from the baby's side to over its front. Consequently, Hermione and Quinn called out at the same time when the space between the baby's legs came clearly into view.

"Look!"

"Ah, there we go."

Hermione grinned and pulled on her mother's hand before she posed:

"Do you see it, Mum?"

"I do, Bunny." Darla answered with a grin of her own. She definitely saw it, although "it" had not been present on her daughter's sonogram.

"Well it seems we can now start calling your baby a 'he', Hermione," Quinn reported with a bright smile, "Congratulations!"

"I'm having a boy!" the brunette stated, excitement evident in her tone.

"A little boy. A grandson!" Darla commented. They watched as the baby turned and suddenly, vigorously threw out his left arm, making contact with the womb's barrier and causing Hermione's belly to jump. Her hand automatically went to her stomach as all of the women let out laughs.

"He knows we're talking about him." Quinn quipped.

"Him. A boy…" murmured Hermione, looking down at her belly and rubbing it.

She was having a boy. A boy… like Harry.

Her breathing stopped momentarily.

"I can't wait to tell your father when he gets here tonight!," Mrs. Granger announced, "Oh! And you can start thinking of names now that we know! There are so many lovely boy names!..."

Hermione faltered again at this proclamation. She felt much of her good mood instantly start to twist and she began to tune out the two others in the room.

A boy. Names. Choosing a name… for her male child. Fathers were usually a part of that.

The witch peered at her stomach again and a dull sadness enveloped her. She knew what she was having now while Harry did not know a thing about her or their child. Guilt joined the sadness in a guile way and the remaining vestiges of joy abandoned her face.

The appointment was over less than five minutes later and the Granger women made their way to a cafe within walking distance, Hermione having agreed with her mother's suggestion of getting a smoothie. If Darla noticed that her daughter's mood had changed, she did not plainly say so or give any indication while they settled at the small restaurant. Conversely, her own happiness tapered at some point and she gazed with concern at the younger woman.

"You know, learning the gender was- _is_ \- very important." Darla commenced, sounding a tad hesitant.

"It is, yes." Hermione claimed. She used the straw to stir her smoothie and hoped the smile she flashed looked heartfelt.

"It means you're five months along. There… there are only four more to go!"

"Yes, only four."

"Hermione, sweet, that's not very long. Not in this context. I think… I think it's time to seriously consider if you are going to move home or not." Darla cautiously revealed. The Muggleborn stared at her parent, her solemn expression not wavering.

"Dad and I want to prepare. We want to know if we should put baby furniture in your room or convert the spare bedroom into a nursery. We want to know if we'll see the baby enough to buy a pram. We want to know how much time we may need to be away from the practice," she continued, "We just want our hearts to know what to expect. I th-thought that, if you stay in Canada, I'd come to be with you for a month after the baby- your little _boy_ \- is born. If you return to England, I thought you'd come a month before he's due. That'd give you time to nest."

"The books I read mention nesting." Hermione relayed.

"It's a crucial part of pregnancy. It gives you peace of mind."

Hermione nodded, watching the smoothie's cup and looking visibly downtrodden. She knew she needed to have an answer soon about whether she was staying or leaving. Her time to contemplate it really was running low and, truthfully, she was weary of it hanging over her head like a portentous cloud.

Could she envision raising a little boy mostly on her own here in Canada?

"I'll use this next month, and when I'm back home in four weeks I'll talk to you and Dad about what I've decided." Hermione noted. Mrs. Granger nodded, giving a doleful smile.

"I don't think I have to let you know that I want your nest to be in Britain," she offered.

"No, Mum- you don't."

* * *

The wind had been knocked out of Harry's sails.

After Klein's impromptu picture of Hermione and after learning that she would be back in England two months after her last visit (at the end of her 25th week, unbeknownst to Harry), Harry told Klein to take a hiatus from the case.

It shocked the Auror. He was getting information for the dark haired wizard, exactly what he wanted, and he was doing a good job of it. Harry had said so himself more than once! As such, Klein was lost as to why the next order to come from the other man's mouth was to take a break.

"I'll reach out to you when I'm ready to move again," he had been told before being paid and dismissed.

It was utterly perplexing but Klein could do nothing but accept Harry's change of heart, move onto his next job, and wait. Trying to inquire about why he was halting the case or trying to reason with him that stopping would cause them to lose important momentum was fruitless. And how was Klein to know that, simply put, Harry was shaken.

He was shaken by the amount of information he was receiving about Hermione yet he could not fathom why. He did not understand why he was struggling to make good use of the knowledge he had about her when that was all he craved for weeks on end not long ago.

Harry watched the picture of the brunette witch and Crookshanks nearly every day, made easier since it sat on his bedside table next to the last letter she had written him. New Harry berated him, asked him why he was wasting precious time and accused him of being a coward. He told him he could have Hermione within his grasp in no time if he would get off his ass and call back Klein.

But perhaps that was what scared Harry the most- that she could be within his reach again. That she could be within his reach after months, months of anger and panic. Months of nothingness.

And _then_ what would he do? What would he do to her, with her? For her? What would he do to keep her? (Because Hermione leaving him again was _not_ an option). Harry highly doubted that she would want him as he was now, in any sense of the word. As an (estranged) companion, friend, lover- it did not matter. He was not the same as he had been when she left, no, but he was not drastically different either. What Harry needed was to know that he could not fail with her. The first chance he had with Hermione after this chasm between them had to be infallible. He had to hold onto her but he needed the assurance of getting in her realm first.

What was more, the wizard realized that he needed to do it himself. By himself. He had to come by her on his own and utilizing Klein (or utilizing him further) prevented that. Harry _did_ have enough information from the Auror, fortunately, that he could take the reins and initiate the next step. Additionally, with a number of weeks before Hermione set foot on English soil once more (thank you very much for that tidbit, Klein), he had time to formulate precisely how to do it.

And looking at the photograph of Hermione cuddling her cat when he woke nearly every morning, and before he slumped into bed nearly night, fanned the embers of a specific idea for Harry.

* * *

Something that Hermione had not prepared for, something that she would not have even really known _how_ to prepare for, was the stark change in her libido the second trimester brought. It knocked on her door at week 19 and, by week 22, had kicked the door in on its hinges.

Her pregnancy books asserted that elevated sexual arousal was common for expecting women but she still found it rather alarming. Hermione had never in her young life experienced feeling so turned on so often. Accordingly, the witch was grateful that her sexual appetite took off once her parents had already returned to the UK because the thought of being singlemindedly horny around them was mortifying. Sex brain was a large adjustment for her, over most everything else and the developments that came in the weeks to follow.

Hermione's 22nd week consisted of new, more noticeable stretch marks and her baby boy (or Bea, as she quickly dubbed him) holding apparent aerobics classes inside her womb, a testament to his limbs becoming stronger. Ron also sent her a letter highlighting his excitement over Bea's gender and proclaiming he would teach him "all the Weasley ways." Week 23 brought swelling body parts and the continuation of relentless urination, much to her frustration, while week 24 brought back pain. The pain was so pronounced one night that Hermione cried to Debbie about it the following day. Her neighbor-friend lent a terrific ear, soothed her with chilled bananas covered in dark chocolate and, once the brunette was calm, snapped a photo of her. The succeeding week was better. She had an appointment with Healer Quinn and, feeling tickled, talked with the older witch about her pleasure that Bea now recognized her voice and could stick out his tongue.

However, the one aspect of her symptoms that she did not discuss with Quinn was her unabating sex drive. She did not mention it to anyone but Debbie, actually, and the blonde woman advised her during week 23 to look into (and then buy) a toy. Hermione initially balked at the idea but when her ceaseless desire began to leave her body desperate and dissatisfied she changed her tune. (She also begged Debbie to go to a sex shop with her and used magic to hide her stomach, aware that she only had two more weeks before this ability was no longer available to her). There was also a distinct turning point- a dream- that made her amenable to getting a toy, and that dream had featured Harry.

The dream left her feeling disoriented after first having it and stirred up a confusing mixture of emotions for Hermione, and the confusing mixture remained long after the dream made its debut. She did her best to not mull over and replay it, especially once she procured a two-in-one sex toy, but her attempts did not always succeed (and sometimes would even require her to use said toy). It was damning, yes, but it also left her… hot.

_She was back at Grimmauld. She was back at Grimmauld and in Harry's bedroom with no real idea of how she got there but not caring much, either. Harry had promised her something, another "wall apology" and then asked if she remembered the first one. With a racing heart, Hermione said that she did remember and added that he owed her a veritable wealth of apologies._

" _For_ everything _you've put me through," the young woman declared, brown eyes on him as he made her sit on the bed. She had not seen him in months so she openly stared at the man before her._

_He chuckled._

" _Are they all to include my tongue?" Harry questioned. His forked tongue flicked out while he watched her._

" _If you think it's fair."_

" _Nothing is fair."_

_The dark haired wizard pushed her on her back and spikes of fear and desire shot through her._

" _You have to be careful." Hermione remarked in a nervous tone._

" _Let_ me _do the apologizing, Hermione. My way," he retorted. He was kneeling now and shifted her legs onto his shoulders._

" _Do you know what-"_

" _Why won't you just let me do this?"_

 _She felt cold hands running along her outer and inner thighs. It felt good, conversely, because she herself was hot. The sound of her heartbeat picked up. No- the sound of_ two _heartbeats picked up. Both were inside of her._

" _I'm scared." Hermione admitted, licking her lips and gazing at the ceiling._

" _Good," Harry answered. She felt breath fanning her center, "You'll taste better."_

 _The next sound to leave her was a stunned moan. His pronged tongue started its work. It did it all. It lapped, sucked, thrust, tickled. It brought her pleasure. It brought her pleasure_ and _happiness, for she had not been with him for so long. It had been_ so _long…._

 _Harry showed her no mercy and, once he began speaking Parseltongue, Hermione was lost. Her moans transformed to shrieks and her eyes shot open, yanking his head farther into her core. She thought she would combust, that she would_ die _and both heartbeats would die with her, and she would never know what Harry was saying. The Parseltongue was heaven, either way, and when it ended (no! It was over!) the orgasm left Hermione gasping and convulsing on the bed._

_When her eyes finally focused again, it was only to see Harry standing above her and looking ravenous. He rapidly pushed his pants down his legs, a snarl on his countenance, and her chest heaved in anticipation. Was she ready for this? Incidentally, there was no time to think on it because he was on top of her then, knocking her knees apart and-_

\- and the rest Hermione's brain had to fill in, because this is when she had originally woken from her wet dream.

A part of her hated it. She did not know why Harry had to be the star of the dream; there were other (attractive) men in the world! Hermione was horny, fine, but that did not mean that _he_ had to be front and center on the dream front. Yes, he was her baby's father and the last man to have sex with her, but did that give him priority to the inner workings of her libido? She tried to take comfort in the fact that the dream had been her one and only fantasy while sleeping thus far but, knowing that it _was_ the only one she'd had, made Harry's feature seem more significant. Could her mind lust after him if she was afraid of facing him?

Since the dream was bothersome and Debbie was the only one she felt to whom she could speak about her sex drive, Hermione brought it up on Wednesday evening of week 25: two days before she traveled to England. (The dream had occurred the previous week and she had already had her toy for numerous days).

"Well, what do you make of it?," pondered Debbie as they sat on the sofa, "Apart from the fact that your body is telling you it wants to be laid." The brunette took some time before responding.

"Harry is the man that I have the most sexual experience with, and… I was satisfied, for the most part, when we were intimate. My body could just be reflecting that back to me- what I know," relayed Hermione, her cheeks tinged red.

"That makes sense. Sex with him _is_ the reason Bea is here." A moment of silence passed.

"But I know there's more to it, Deb. I… in the dream, I told him I was scared. And I am, mostly in regard to him."

"Scared of what'll happen if you move back home, yeah?" Debbie posed.

"Yeah. And I think that's what the dream actually represented, orgasm aside." Hermione said with a half smile. She raked a hand through her curled, frizzy strands.

"You told your mom you'd have made your choice by your next visit, and that's this weekend, doll… have you made your choice?"

The witch's expression was both guilty and pained as she stated:

"No. And that scares me too."

* * *

Harry had come at the perfect time, from what he could tell. He had been watching the house for more than half an hour and he was almost certain that none of its occupants were home, a hunch that was strongly supported by the fact that the Grangers' car was missing. He began to bob with skittish energy underneath his Invisibility Cloak while his eyes remained on the house. He should do this now… he would wait another two minutes and then get the task done. He did not want to wait so long that he risked the family returning to their home.

When his internal clock indicated the two minute mark was up, Harry released an exhale and rapidly made his way closer to the dwelling. What if he was wrong and someone was in there? What if only Darla or Simon had left, or if they both had left and Hermione remained? No… watching the windows through the Omnioculars had given no indication of life inside, not even a glimpse of Hermione's orange companion.

The wizard balled his fists as he stepped into the Grangers' backyard. He had not been on this property in roughly six months; the last instance had resulted in receiving a letter that upended his world. To keep from reliving that shattering moment in time, Harry cast _Homenum Revelio_ in a wide berth and waited a number of seconds.

Nothing…. Good. They truly were gone, then.

Feeling encouraged, he gazed around before squatting down near relatively high shrubs and removing his Cloak. He stood up with his wand in his right hand and paper in his left, knowing he would have to get inside quickly and willing his Apparition to be as quiet as possible. Harry closed his eyes and envisioned Hermione's bedroom in detail, yet when he did not feel the telltale signs of Apparition, especially as the seconds dragged on, his eyes shot open in realization.

"Shit," he grumbled, squeezing the objects in his hands. He glared up at the second story.

He could not Apparate inside which meant that Hermione had warded against it. Or, more likely, warded against him.

Harry grit his teeth and shook his head against incoming feelings about the development. He did not have time for them to take over- he needed new access. He speedily called forth new thoughts to his brain. There was no mail slot on the front or back door so he could not slip the letter in that way… if Hermione had an Anti-Apparition ward then chances were other wards existed as well so magically unlocking doors or windows was likely to fail.

A piercing, hissing noise then assaulted Harry's ears and pulled him from brainstorming. Startled, he looked around before peering down, and what he saw made him take a step back and caused his eyes to widen.

"Crookshanks!"

The fluffy feline was staring at Harry with a defensive posture. His ears were pulled back somewhat and his tail was straight, his body taut as though ready to spring into action at any second. Harry did not move and merely returned the cat's stare, blinking carefully a couple times. He did not want to provoke Hermione's pet because he was not in the mood to be attacked but he mostly did not want to provoke him because he suddenly understood that Crookshanks was the answer to his dilemma. He _could_ be the answer, and Harry did not want to ruin the opportunity.

"Crookshanks," the wizard repeated in a stoic voice, "How are you, boy?"

An angry scat sound came from the animal as he took a step back with his front, right paw but changed nothing else about his stance. Harry breathed out as he remained still and evaluated the situation.

He knew Crookshanks' obvious opposition to his presence was due to the need to protect his master and her domain. He also knew that his relationship with the feline had soured since being at school. Historically, Harry had great rapport with Crookshanks. The cat had loved him, something that always stood in evident contrast to Crookshanks' feelings about Ron. However, their bond undoubtedly changed when Harry's treatment of Hermione had changed. Crookshanks seemed to understand the dark haired wizard now caused his beloved mistress distress and, as such, had become hostile towards Harry, a fact the latter did not miss. Thus, if Harry wanted his plan to work, he knew he would have to yield to this cat.

"I know," he commenced, gazing at the cat. He crouched down in a deferential manner, "I know I'm not welcomed here."

Crookshanks did not make another sound but did narrow his eyes.

"I, I just need to speak to Hermione. I _really_ need it… it's been too long. And I- I need your help, boy." Harry stated. Another hiss of warning came from the animal.

"I don't want to hurt her. I don't. I _swear_ I don't. I _won't_. But I have to talk to her, Crookshanks. Please. Please help me," he supplied. He did not feel silly or misguided for addressing the feline like a human. He knew of Crookshanks' intelligence and perceptiveness, firsthand. He had witnessed it.

Keeping his eyes on Crookshanks, Harry slowly extended his hand and dropped the paper in front of him. The cat looked at it with, arguably, a kitty scowl.

"It's a letter. Will you give it to her? Please?," the wizard asked, "I'll stay away if you just give it to her. Please."

Crookshanks' tail jittered in agitation as he observed the paper and Harry observed him. After about half a minute, he looked up at Harry and emitted an irritated chuff before snatching the letter in his mouth and trotting off without a backward glance. Surprise and relief illuminated Harry's face as he stood up and watched the feline disappear, and he took a moment to throw his head back and shut his eyes before he Disapparated.

Simon, Darla, and Hermione were back home before 7PM. The family loitered downstairs as a unit for 15 minutes before Mr. Granger announced that he would start dinner and Hermione retreated upstairs to rest for a spell. She had not been settled on her bed for very long before her pet sauntered inside, pushing the door open more with a paw.

"Crooks, there you are," the witch cooed with a fond smile. Crookshanks could not trill or meow in reply because, Hermione saw, he was carrying something in his mouth.

Paper. It was paper, and he dropped it near her left shoulder when he jumped on the bed. He demanded a head rub for his delivery services and she gave it while furrowing her brow at what he brought.

"What's this?" Hermione muttered. Crookshanks merely looked at her yet he seemed disgruntled. Frowning slightly, she grabbed the paper and unfolded it.

_Hermione-_

_I know getting this will come as a shock. You haven't heard from me or seen me in 8 months, and the last time you did see me you forced me out of your house with magic._

_I reckon that wherever you are living now, you still visit or keep in contact with your parents. I wrote this letter with the hope that you visit them; that way, you'd get it yourself and I wouldn't have to go through your mum and dad (because I know they wouldn't help me). And I need you to get this letter, Hermione. I need it because I want to speak to you. I need to, about many things: the last time we were together, what you saw when you went in my mind, how I acted around you after the war. I want to talk and I imagine you have things you want to say to me, despite how silent things have been between us._

_Write me back, please. We_ _need _ _to talk. I'll be waiting._

_-Harry_

Hermione found that she was having trouble breathing upon finishing the letter- _his_ letter. Harry's. Harry had written to her. She peered at Crookshanks, vaguely aware that she was also trembling, and the cat returned the stare with empathy in his eyes. He meowed and licked the back of her hand, rubbing against her belly. Dazed, Hermione took a few minutes to run her hand through his fur, an action that unintentionally grounded her; when she was finished, her heart was not beating as frantically in her chest and her shaking had nearly ceased. She felt a jagged movement from Bea and gazed down at her abdomen, blinking a couple times.

Hermione put a timid hand on her stomach and took a fortifying breath in. She had to keep herself steady. _Harry had written to her_! With trepidation, she turned to stare at the letter. After eight months of nothing but her musings, her thoughts, her presumptions… there was contact from him. He was requesting to speak to her, claimed that he needed it. He said he wanted to talk about the last time they were together- their fall out- and even how he acted before then.

Harry said he would wait to hear from her.

Hermione reached out to stroke Crookshanks again, biting her lip. She was surprised to realize the letter had not been abrasive. Direct, yes, and with no real feeling of warmth or remorse, but it was not cutting or foreboding. It was factual.

With a swallow, the witch picked it up again and read it twice over. Afterward, she stared at his handwriting. Such familiar handwriting… seeing it countless times during Hogwarts while reading his homework or his letters over the winter and summer holidays, the latter of which used to warm her heart.

Would Bea's handwriting come to resemble his in any way?

Hermione did not register tears until a number of them fell onto her shirt. She wiped away the rest with her hand and exhaled, shaking her head. Sniffing, she stuffed the paper under her pillows and grabbed the throw blanket on the end of her bed, beckoning for Crookshanks to come snuggle next to her. She was suddenly very tired and decided that when her parents called her down for dinner she would ask to take it in her room. Hermione also decided that she would not tell them about the letter, surely not today (and possibly not at all). No, she needed to be able to think, needed time to digest it….

Because, as Harry indicated in the letter, it _was_ a shock to her. He had made the first move.

The brunette slept poorly that night. She could not find a comfortable position on her back or sides, she did not sleep beyond hour intervals, and she thought of nothing but Harry's letter when she was awake. Hermione's fitful rest was also unfortunate because she would likely not be at her best to receive the friends that were coming over for Sunday lunch. Ron, Ginny, Neville, Luna, and Fleur were scheduled to arrive at one o'clock and, before receiving the letter, she had been excited. She assumed that she still was when she got out of bed at 8:08AM that morning but she knew she would be highly distracted while they were there. Hermione pondered if she should show the message to Ron while she showered; by the time it ended, reasoned she would make that determination based on how the day unfolded. If she did not do it today, she could always write to the red head about it once she was back in Canada. (Besides, the communication from Harry seemed so… so new, so personal, and she did not think she was ready to share it with anyone else).

The lunch made Hermione happy. The visit lasted almost four hours and her friends marveled at the difference in size of her stomach within the past two months. They had fun throwing out potential names into the ether and no one mentioned Harry or the unresolved issue of her move home. The last point was one that had been on Darla's and Simon's minds the entire week since their daughter had claimed she would have an answer for them this weekend, but she was leaving the following day at noon and had yet to bring it up.

"We should ask her. We need to ask her, Simon," Mrs. Granger attested late that evening while they prepared dinner in the kitchen, "She promised and still nothing. It's _killing_ me."

"I know, love," her husband said with a small frown, cutting vegetables.

"We, we can discuss it while we eat. She can't leave tomorrow without telling us!"

"She won't. We'll talk about it while we eat, like you suggested."

"Dad, Mum," came an unexpected interruption. The couple turned and saw a barefoot Hermione standing in the entryway, Crookshanks at her feet.

"Bunny." Mr. Granger acknowledged. He observed that she looked subdued, quite the cry from how she presented when her friends were there earlier in the day. He also wondered if she had heard them.

"Are you okay?" Darla posed with some concern. Hermione nodded.

"Yes. I just…," she uttered. She stopped and sighed, "I wanted to say that I know what I'm going to do. About my living situation."

Simon's grip on the knife tightened and he heard his wife make a noise in her throat. There were a couple moments of tense silence but they did not last long.

"What is it? What are you going to do, Hermione?" her mother inquired. She sounded eager yet chary of what would come from the young woman's mouth.

Hermione sighed once more and peered down at her cat who swished his tail and emitted a purr.

"I've decided that I'm going to move back to England," she revealed.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry's letter went with Hermione back to Canada on Monday. It seemed to be all she could think about at any given moment but she had to sequester it in her mind because she had other tasks that called to her, other tasks that required prompt attention now that her decision to return to England had been announced.

Her 26th week of pregnancy started with handing her superiors an official resignation letter and informing them that she had made the onerous decision to leave Alberta in favor of her home country. They were stunned by the suddenness of it and extremely reluctant to accept the information for fear of losing one of their greatest employees. They attempted to persuade Hermione to stay but, when she appealed to their emotions and explained her need to raise her child where she had grown up, they relented and vowed to cling to the eight weeks she had left with them.

The second task of that week was to tell her friends about her choice. The brunette penned a letter to Ron on Tuesday evening but did not personalize it, writing it so that all of her kin could read its contents, and she knew she would be eager to read their response(s). Conversely, she was not looking forward to sharing her decision with Debbie and waited until the week was halfway over on Wednesday evening before having that conversation. Debbie had been a wonderful friend to Hermione- her primary support while in Calgary- and she was going to miss her company. She felt a bit like she was abandoning her neighbor or had used her, and she explicitly said this over the dinner she had made for them.

" _What_? No! Hermione, not at all!," Debbie insisted, peering at the younger woman, "How could you think that?"

"Because I came to Canada, quickly found out that I was pregnant, had your help through the pregnancy, and now I'm leaving for good, before it's even been a year! It's like I came here only so you could help me get through this." Hermione answered, tears in her eyes.

"That implies that you planned this! So you're telling me that you researched every woman in Canada, chose me, got pregnant on purpose, then moved to another continent _just_ to see out your evil plan of making a stranger help you through said pregnancy."

"Well it sounds ridiculous when you put it like that."

"That's because it _is_ ridiculous- you thinking that you've taken advantage of me," the blonde attested with a grin. The witch chuckled and wiped her eyes, "I've been your friend and helped you because I wanted to. And, while I will definitely miss you, I completely understand why you're leaving. Everyone you love is there! I'd do the same thing."

"I'll miss you too, Deb. You've been splendid! I wish we could have had more time together," revealed Hermione.

" _C'est la vie_. But it's not as though we'll never speak again."

"Of course not! You'll visit me. You'll come visit me and Bea and we'll be _thrilled_ to have you! _And_ I'll write you, at least once a month."

"I will hold you to that, doll." Debbie smiled.

On Thursday, with no one else to tell and nothing else to distract her, Hermione at last turned to Harry's letter. She resolved to compose her reply before the day ended and told Bea that she was writing to his father, using the baby as her inspiration since, ultimately, he was the reason she was moving back to the UK. During her deliberation the previous weekend, she visualized and fully grasped the troubles she would face if she remained in North America and reared Bea on her own. She was a first time mother, _young_ at that, and that was intimidating enough without being somewhere that was not fully familiar to her and with no one she unequivocally trusted and loved. Additionally, Hermione reasoned that Harry gave her the opening she needed to reestablish contact with him. He had disturbed the divide between them and crossed a line, one that was much needed and gave her the gumption to mirror his action. He had unknowingly forced her hand to confront this fear (of him) and some part of her was relieved.

_Harry-_

_You wrote me days ago but I needed time to accept that fact and to think, because it very much was a shock, like you mentioned._

_There is much we need to talk about, yes, and I certainly do have plenty of things that I've thought (and felt) since I left, things that you should hear. I won't address any of them here but I will be back in Britain in a little less than two months; I think it would be best if we spoke then. I only hope that, when we do, things will not be as they were when I left. I won't be able to accept that, Harry. I hope there has been change._

_I'll reach you once I've returned. Take care until then._

_-Hermione_

It was not long or revealing but neither was Harry's letter. She stated that she would be in England again in eight weeks yet omitted that it would be permanent, but most glaring was the omission of her (obvious!) pregnancy. Hermione rationalized this in a number of ways. One, the letter might be intercepted on its way to Harry and bring forth a horrific maelstrom of attention from the wizarding public. Two, Harry might throw all of his weight into finding her once he read that she was expecting and strong-arm her before she was ready. Three, the topic was too significant and therefore too long a conversation to have through written communication; delivering news that important after months of no contact should be done in person.

On the other hand, some part of Hermione rationalized that she excluded her pregnancy from the letter because she was, simply, a coward. She was a coward who wanted more time (two months to be exact) before she had to face Harry. She wanted every second available to her before that happened because she was afraid. She was not thinking of his right to know that his life was going to be forever changed by fatherhood- she was still preoccupied with the lingering scars he had created. But he would know before Bea arrived! That is all that mattered, was it not? Harry would know of Bea before his birth and that was the most Hermione could give him at this juncture. (Perhaps that was all he deserved).

As such, she sent off the letter with shaky finality and quieted the echoes of "coward" that rang in her head, choosing instead to focus on her baby and her remaining weeks in Canada.

Hermione learned during the 27th week that Bea started opening and closing his eyes, she purchased and read a book about breastfeeding, and she had no choice but to keep putting up with the pesky need to urinate. Her libido also continued to rage but, quite used to it at this point, she utilized her toy to give herself pleasure and derived much satisfaction from it. Week 28 marked the start of her third trimester and there was much to consider. She was in the very last stage of the pregnancy! She called her mother and got another massage to commemorate the milestone and she had an appointment with Quinn to discuss what the trimester would hold. The brunette was reminded that she could no longer travel magically unless it was via Portkey and they discussed the expectation of back pain, something she was dreading. They discussed Hermione's move back to England, as well, and it made the younger witch emotional as Quinn expressed a bit of sadness, yet mostly delight, at having gotten to know the younger witch.

"You'll have stopped seeing me anyway soon enough, once he got here," the Healer relayed with a soft smile, "But we have two more meetings before you leave so you're not rid of me just yet!"

"I'll have to get a new maternity Healer. They won't know us like you do. They'll be a stranger," Hermione stated, sniffling. She partially cursed pregnancy for making her, an emotional person, even _more_ emotional.

"You can always keep in contact with me, dear. Ask questions, seek second opinions or confirmation."

She nodded and did her best to compose herself before offering:

"I'll send you a picture of Bea after he's born."

"I'd be honored to receive it."

Back pain ushered in week 29 and Hermione had little choice but to power through it. She did, however, discover epsom salt to help with her bodily aches while Bea was especially active in his movements during those seven days. Initially, her parents had been scheduled to visit her at the end of week 29 but that changed when she shared her decision to move home. The small family agreed it would make sense to wait three weeks and have Simon and Darla come during week 33 to help prepare and assist for her return. So, instead of being with them physically that weekend, Hermione thought of their reactions to her news the previous month.

Her mother had quickly commenced weeping tears of happiness and relief in the kitchen, covering her face with both hands. Her father had looked like he might also cry but did not, opting to embrace her as an alternative. Afterward, Hermione relayed that she wanted to live with her parents for a number of months and that she wanted to refrain from working for the first three months following Bea's birth. They asked if she would stay with them once she returned to work (she wanted to reintegrate back into the Ministry) and her answer that she was unsure. Their follow up inquiry was about Harry's involvement and, with some trepidation, she revealed that he had written to her the day prior.

The knowledge that she had kept it to herself caused a minor uproar but the witch did not show her parents the letter. She paraphrased the message instead and made known her plan to answer Harry, although at the time she had not known what precisely the reply would look like.

"You said I couldn't ignore him if I chose to have the baby and you were right. It's about time I stopped," Hermione had claimed in a measured tone, "I'm going to give him the chance to be a father… it's half of the reason I decided to come back."

And it was true. As much as Harry had hurt and betrayed her since the war- had done his best to _break_ her- she was not so callous as to have his child, live on a different continent, and then keep this child away from him, with or without his knowledge.

Indeed, Hermione was not callous at all.

* * *

Harry's entire body was jittery as he sat on the sofa and read the paper for what must have been the 20th time since yesterday. His right leg jounced with fervor and he mindlessly bit the nails of his left hand as his eyes zipped across the script on the page. He knew the words would not change but he could not help himself. They had not changed in the 24 hours since laying eyes on them and he did not even _want_ them to change, for they were from _Hermione_.

She had written to him. She had responded to his letter.

Of course, this had been Harry's intention, expectation, and desire for writing to her in the first place, but to have an actual reply from her in his hands… it was staggering.

Today, he had already been pouring over the letter and thinking for three hours. Yesterday, upon receiving it, he had done the same but for a longer period of time. He did not anticipate spending _all_ of today in the same manner but, currently, it was the loop in which he was stuck.

Hermione would be back for a visit and agreed to speak.

 _Hermione would be back for a visit and agreed to speak_.

And in less than two months!

Kreacher entered the room at a certain point and asked if Harry wanted a drink but the wizard declined with an impatient wave of the hand and shake of the head. He had consumed a healthy amount of alcohol the previous day after receiving Hermione's letter and he was put off it today. The elf then asked if he should bother to make lunch or leave his master to his musings, and Harry eyed him before instructing him to wait two hours, make the meal, and then come fetch him. Kreacher acknowledged the directive and disappeared.

Harry leaned back against the couch and stared at the ceiling once Kreacher was gone, leg continuing to bounce away. He did not believe he would reply to the letter. He had seriously considered it, even with her indirect command to wait for _her_ to contact _him_ , but decided against it this morning. Hermione had also mentioned change… hope that things (he) had changed, alluded that she would not go further if things (he) had not. He scowled at this.

He had changed after defeating Voldemort. She expected him to be changed again after her absence. But what specific _change_ did she want to see? Did she expect Harry to be the person he was before the Dark Lord fell? That was not possible. That young man was gone for good. The trials he had faced since age 11 had left a dark taint on him that would likely never go away… but the degree to which that taint existed did not have to be so severe. This shadow had ruled him until Hermione left (him), admittedly, and both Harrys- old and new- understood he could not behave in _that_ same, crude manner and keep her. But then who would he be if neither version was viable?

Harry huffed in agitation, all movement of his suddenly ceasing. He closed his eyes with a frown as he felt the onset of a headache. He did not want to obsess over this and the incipient pain in his head warned him to stop. He would have to explore this issue and many others with Hermione so he might as well wait, wait for these two months to pass…. The time would be expansive in his impatience, he knew, but there was nothing to be done for it. The dark haired wizard glanced at the paper in his hand and felt his heart lurch. For now, he would put this letter by his bedside with its brother letter and the picture of her, and go and eat the lunch his elf made when it was ready.

Harry's subconscious thoughts of Hermione became excessive as the weeks went by. As he had resigned himself to _not_ brood over her during his waking hours (which was hard), it seemed his mind made up for it when his concentration slipped or while he slept. It was easier to direct his attention elsewhere when he was awake and realized he was zoning out and imagining her, obviously, but he did not want to take a dreamless potion to combat his dreams of her because… because it kept him connected to her. It allowed him to see her. (And what did it matter if a faction of his thoughts were recollections of the times they had had sex, or if his dreams were wet as his brain projected images of their bodies melding together again? It didn't matter, that's what).

Accordingly, these tenacious thoughts boiled over into a blend of anxiety, desperation and yearning for Harry and propelled him into action in order to achieve peace of mind. With two weeks to go until Hermione's purported visit to England, the wizard contacted Klein to resume services.

"I just want you to watch out for her since I don't know when exactly she's coming back," Harry explained as the Auror stood reading the letter Hermione had penned, "Watch her house, her parents' practice- the same as before. When you finally spot her, let me know. That's all you have to do. Nothing beyond that."

"Just play look out, then." Klein noted, handing the paper over.

"Yes."

"Got it."

"You can start this weekend. You don't have to worry about the rest of this week until it's Saturday. It's next week I'm keen on, anyway," reported Harry.

"Well I'm glad to jump back in this for you," Klein stated. He then gestured at the letter, "And this is good news! Looks like you'll have your witch again soon."

The younger man gave a fleeting but genuine smile.

* * *

Hermione's last month in Alberta was rather hectic. She had to wrap up the life she'd begun to establish both professionally and personally in preparation for the move back home _and_ she had to do so toward the end of a pregnancy. At 30 weeks she began to feel as big as a house. Her body no longer felt like her own and it made her mood variable, not helped by the fact that sleeping comfortably was becoming a staple of the past. She had her second to last appointment with Quinn where the Healer informed her that her magic may begin to fluctuate now that she was so far along, if it already had not. She told Hermione she only had to be concerned if she felt she could not control her magic overall and assured her things would stabilize after the birth. The pair discussed a transition plan for her maternity care once in Britain as well and Quinn, having been in contact with St. Mungo's, claimed they would decide on a Healer during their last visit.

Pain was the theme for week 31. It haunted Hermione's back, abdomen, hips, and sometimes her legs, and while her usual remedies of stretching and walking worked well enough, they were lacking this week; the trouble in alleviating the extreme discomfort led her to resolve to get yet another massage. Additionally, she experienced Braxton Hicks contractions and readily decided she hated them. Although she had been prepared for them from the information from her books and Quinn, it did not stop her from freaking out the first time they happened. Luckily, Debbie had been available to soothe her and the brunette gifted her with an elegant fruit basket the next day to express her gratitude- for everything she had done up to this point, really.

At 32 weeks, Hermione fully grasped the phrase "heavily pregnant" and felt that way five times over. She was eight months along and flabbergasted by that fact. She had trouble looking away from any reflective surface that showed her protruding stomach. She would give birth in two months. She would become a mother in two months! As surreal as the notion was, it was all for the better because the witch had grown weary of feeling uncomfortable with her body and its functions. The heartburn from her first trimester made a nasty comeback and teamed up with the Braxton Hicks to make her miserable, and Bea was doing his damndest to stay active at the most inconvenient times. However, it was also her second to last week in Calgary and Hermione often ruminated on this at night when sleep eluded her. Her parents and Ron were arriving next week on Wednesday to assist her with the move and then, come Saturday, she would say goodbye to Canada. It left her feeling… dubious.

During her last appointment with Quinn during week 32, she chose a maternity Healer at St. Mungo's to take over her care who seemed to be a provisional good choice and a home visit from said Healer during her 34th week was scheduled. Hermione shed tears, too, during the appointment and exchanged a firm hug with the older woman before she left the hospital. She thanked Quinn for providing her with hope and understanding during the past 22 weeks and promised she would keep her abreast of Bea's birth.

After her final appointment with Quinn, Hermione seemed to have only blinked and then it was the middle of her 33rd week, she'd had her last day at work, and Darla, Simon and Ron were jammed into her apartment and ready to help her move in three days' time. Her parents took the second bedroom while Ron camped out in the living room with no complaint, yet he remarked that it was ironic that his first time visiting her was on the precipice of her leaving.

"Yes, an unexpected pregnancy got in the way of cozy visits for my friends, I'm afraid," she retorted, evidently in one of her less than amenable moods.

Debbie joined the quartet that night for dinner at Hermione's favorite restaurant in Calgary so the blonde could meet Ron for the first (and last) time, and the red head staunchly policed himself so as to not mention magic since Debbie was Muggle and had no clue packing up Hermione's apartment would be a breeze thanks to wands. The next day, Hermione acted as tour guide and took her best friend to a few magical and non-magical places in the city but, as she tired easily and her feet hurt if she remained on them too long, their trip was short lived. She apologized but Ron understood her struggles and asserted her apology was unnecessary.

"What kind of monster would I be if I insisted a pregnant woman show me round town all blooming day?" he wondered.

When they returned to the apartment, Mr. Granger was making lunch while his wife had begun sorting Hermione's small, inconsequential possessions into boxes. Simon asked if they were hungry and both, although having eaten under two hours ago, agreed to more food.

"Ah, your eating habits have finally caught up to mine!" the red head smiled at the witch.

"That's only because I have a _person_ inside me to sustain!" she answered with a grin.

Later that night, after dinner and packing (made simpler for the two people with magic), and after the older couple had retired to its room to sleep, Hermione sat snuggled against Ron on the couch while the two friends discussed Harry. It was their first time doing so since the pureblood had arrived the previous day and the mood between them was somber. They talked about his letter (and her response) and what she planned to do for her reunion with him.

"I think I should speak to him first through… through a fire call. I can tell him about the, the baby, and then the next meeting can be in person," offered Hermione. _That's if the first meeting goes well,_ Ron grimly thought. However, he pursed his lips to keep this from spilling from his mouth.

"That's probably best," he stated. A fire call would allow physical distance between the two and the red head was fine with this, preferring for the brunette to be kept out of Harry's physical space for as long as possible.

"I want to be settled for a few days before I talk to him."

"Of course. Gather yourself a bit. Talking to Harry again is gonna be like taking a hippogriff kick to the head."

Hermione nodded in a distracted manner, staring straight ahead.

"I've had many dreams about him this past month," she mentioned after a stint, " _Many_ dreams." Ron turned his head and peered at her inquisitively.

"Bad dreams?" he probed. The Muggleborn shrugged and shook her head.

"Just dreams. More than I had even right after coming here, right after I got away." _From him_ hung in the air as the sentence ended.

"Hmm. I mean, having all these dreams about him, knowing you're going back to England... that's not surprising, is it? Maybe unpleasant, but not surprising."

"No, it's not," Hermione commented. A wry smile then befell her lips, "I wonder if it's Bea's way of trying to communicate about his father. Trying to tell me I'm a terrible person because his father still doesn't know about him."

"You are _not_ a terrible person, Hermione, not even for that." Ron said in a sharp voice, looking into her face. She gazed back until she sighed and looked away, shifting a little against his side and wishing she did not have to question if that were true.

Since Hermione was a meticulous, well organized person, she, Ron, and her parents had nearly everything in her apartment packed by the late afternoon on Friday. She primarily served as overseer and delegator to the other three and took up residence on the sofa to avoid overexerting herself, but she used her wand to help and direct numerous things as well. (Debbie was under the impression that whatever of her friend's belongings were not sold were being shipped to the UK when, in reality, they were merely being shrunk and put into two, large suitcases). It was fortuitous they finished rather early because it allowed them time to rest, something Darla insisted Hermione would need since they were leaving via Portkey at 7AM the following morning, with the plan for the women to take one and the men, and the luggage, to take the other.

Debbie hosted the quartet for dinner that evening, and Hermione sobbed in her friend's arms when a combination of the meal ending and tiredness from the day signaled the gathering's termination. The blonde woman assured that she would travel to Europe and visit as soon as Hermione said it was acceptable and the Grangers gave their sincere thanks to Debbie for being there for their daughter when they could not. Darla sat at Hermione's bedside that night as a calming presence, showering the pregnant witch with verbal affection and hand rubs until the morose expression was wiped from her face and she fell asleep; once she had, Darla wiped her face with a lukewarm cloth and kissed her forehead before leaving the room.

The witch's sleep was undisturbed and satisfying that night, and when morning came and the small group was ready to depart, she looked around her home of the past 10 months with noted sadness yet acceptance. She would be returning to her true home to _make_ a home for her baby. Her son.

"Are you ready?" Ron wondered with a flare of concern in his eyes. Hermione tore her eyes away from the kitchen- where she had learned that she was pregnant- and peered at the wizard.

With a tepid smile that was also meant for her parents, she nodded.

* * *

As a former Auror and someone who often moved through the less desirable sectors of wizarding society, Klein was not a man easily taken by surprise. However, this particular Sunday, he had definitely been caught off his guard.

Klein had been on his Granger stakeout all week. On Wednesday morning, he discovered that Darla and Simon were taking a trip when he caught them loading luggage into the trunk of a taxi. He continued to watch their house despite their absence, though not as frequently since they were gone, and when he started his watch yesterday, he learned that they were back when he observed movement within the dwelling. Even with that being the case, he had not known that Hermione was also at her parents' home until today, Sunday, and marveled that the witch had managed to keep out of his awareness. Accordingly, when Klein got a solid look at her an hour ago when she had opened the back door to let out her waspish cat, his mouth had fallen open underneath his Invisibility Cloak. He gawked at her until she retreated back inside, and he took a long moment to digest her appearance before jerking out of his minor stupor and leaving the scene before the feline could spot him.

He had spent the last 60 minutes in a bar, taking two shots of wizarding Vodka and fretting. Fretting how he was going to deliver the news to Harry… for he _had_ to tell him, and had to tell him today. Now.

What if the dark haired wizard did not believe him? Klein's surprise had been so jagged that he had not taken a picture as proof of what he witnessed. But then, what reason did he have to lie to Harry? Surely the younger man would realize he had no motive to distort the truth, and therefore no reason to unleash any anger… not at him, anyway. Knowing he had better get the task over and done with, the ex-Auror stood from his stool with a slight grimace and made his way to Grimmauld Place.

"An actual visit instead of a fire call. This must be big." Harry posited with a raised eyebrow, strolling into the room where Kreacher had led Klein. The elf stood by the guest attentively.

"Er, yeah, actually," the other wizard replied, appearing awkward. Harry's brow furrowed at this before he dismissed his elf, eyes never leaving the man he had hired.

"What is it?" he pondered.

"Hermione is back."

Harry's heart stilled.

"She is?"

"Yes. I saw her today. About an hour ago." Klein shared. Harry exhaled and plowed a hand through his hair.

"Good. This is good," he remarked, eyes flitting about while he thought, "Now I know she's here. I can expect her to-"

"But! But, Harry... you need to know something." The bespectacled wizard shot him a look, one that was full of suspicion.

"What do I need to know, Klein?"

The once Auror took a deep breath then gazed directly in Harry's eyes, appearing regretful.

"Mate, she's… she's pregnant." Klein declared.

It was like someone had flipped a switch on Harry. His back became completely erect and his countenance blanked, and he stared at the other man with eyes that did not blink. It was silent. Klein watched him nervously and licked his lips.

"I was shocked. I had no idea! There was no indication of it! I-I never suspected, it never came up during the whole time I was tracking her family," he explained after being unable to tolerate the stillness any longer, "Today was the first time I saw _all_ of her! I didn't know!"

It remained quiet a bit longer until Harry, in a low voice, pondered:

"Pre… pregnant?"

"Y-Yeah. I'm… I'm sorry, Potter." Klein answered. In the next heartbeat, blazing, green eyes locked on Klein and he froze in place.

"Kreacher!" came the harsh bark. The elf was back in the room two seconds later.

"Yes Master?" Kreacher questioned.

"Pay Mr. Klein for his services. He can dictate whatever price he wants," Harry instructed, continuing to glower at the Auror, "After that, see him out."

"Kreacher will do so."

"Thank you for your help, Klein. You've done your job and now it's over. I won't be calling you again."

"Wait-" Klein started in a penitent tone. He extended a hand but Harry did not see the display for he had stalked out of the room immediately after vocalizing his last word.

Harry's head felt like it was literally spinning as he hurtled down the hallway in order to get to his bedroom. He struggled to take in breath as he fumbled with the doorknob and finally pushed it open, walking inside and slamming the door closed behind him. He clenched his teeth and grabbed at his hair as Klein's revelation ran through his mind.

Hermione.

Pregnant.

Hermione was apparently pregnant….

Hermione was fucking _pregnant_?!

How?! How in the _world_? And was it _true_?... but why would Klein even dare to lie about something like that?

Harry tried valiantly to fight against the flurry of emotion raging inside him and began searching his room, panting. His wand. He needed his wand. Once he found it (with shaking hands), he tried his best to take a handful of moments to regulate his breathing, closing his eyes to help with the venture. _Just… just in and out! In and out! Don't think about_ anything _else right now_ , he ordered. Conversely, the first thing he saw upon opening his eyes was the picture of Hermione holding Crookshanks and it only served to undo his tenuous attempt at relaxation. Harry screamed in his throat right before he Disapparated.

Ron did not typically work at the joke shop on weekends but, since he had not worked from Wednesday to Saturday due to his trip to Canada, he was making up for the prolonged absence. Wheezes was doing remarkably well and had a respectable number of employees yet it was still at the point where it required Ron's and George's regular involvement and time. Admittedly, Ron had been preoccupied since arriving at the shop that day. Hermione was back (she was back for good!) and he was having difficulty thinking about anything but her. He was ecstatic and relieved she was home but also apprehensive. What would life be like now for her, for them- especially once Bea was born- and how was Harry going to play into it all?

Ron had just checked off the inventory list when he heard raised voices at the front of the store. Shouting. Alarmed, he listened harder as his eyebrows drew down. Yes, that was unmistakable shouting. What was happening? A customer scuffle?

He hurried from the back of the shop to see what the problem was and to intervene but he stopped short when he finally saw the source.

"Where is he?! I'll ask you one last time before I find him myself!" Harry Potter insisted, peering mutinously at the cowering Wheezes employee behind the main counter. He had his wand out and every single person inside the store was watching the spectacle, appearing as stunned as Ron felt. He had not personally seen this man in over a year, for Merlin's sake!

The red head could not merely stand there and gape along with his customers, however. This was his business and his former best friend and he had to do something.

"Harry." Ron uttered through gritted teeth. His heart had jumped in his chest long ago but he ignored it and stalked over to his employee's side. He gave the dark haired wizard the dirtiest look he could muster while his hand involuntarily went to his own wand.

Harry turned to him and his eyes flashed. 

"Hermione," he stated in an equally steely voice, glaring at him now instead of the worker, "Who is it?" His entire body was shaking subtly.

Ron felt a cold chill run throughout him. His eyes darted around at the observers. He knew on instinct that this interaction would not be pleasant and he had to do as much damage control as he could. Keeping his wand movement out of sight below the counter, he silently cast _Muffliato_ twice.

"What? What are you on about?" the pureblood responded afterward.

"Hermione. _Who is it_? Tell me." Harry said.

"What do you want? Why are you here?!"

"HERMIONE!," Harry then exploded, eyes wild yet defeated, "She's _pregnant_! And I want to know who the _god_ damn father is!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know if Muggles can use Portkeys so let’s just say they can (as long as a wizard/witch is present) for the sake of this chapter. 
> 
> Also, for readers wondering about Harry’s redemption and when it’s going to plainly make itself known, I’ll be upfront and say outstanding changes won’t be noticeable until Bea is born. I just want to be realistic and that’s how it works for what I have plotted. With that being said, Bea’s appearance is just around the corner.


	7. Chapter 7

Ron's mind raced as he stared at Harry. Good lord.

He knew. He _knew_.

How on _Earth_ had he found out that Hermione was pregnant?! Did he know she was back, that she was in England right now? Why did he have this information? It had only been _one_ day! Not only that but the red head was still stuck on the fact that he was even looking at Harry, whom he had not seen in more than a year. Their last interaction had been at a contentious lunch during which the dark haired wizard sought out Ron for answers about Hermione. (Very similar circumstances to the current situation, actually).

It seemed to be too much to take in. What was he going to do? More importantly, what was he going to _say_?

Ron swallowed, continuing to stare. He was stalled. However, he was also not convinced that _Muffliato_ would hold under Harry's current level of emotion and magic- the man appeared bereft and irate- and Ron knew it would be disastrous if Wheezes' customers became aware of the reason for Harry's visit, if they heard any snippet related to Hermione's pregnancy. He had to keep this exchange short.

"Give me an answer or there will be trouble," growled Harry in a measured tone. He sounded more menacing than when he had yelled and his fingers twitched around his wand, "Do _not_ deny that she is. Who is the father, Ron?"

 _You! It's YOU! You are!_ You're _the father, you wretched arsehole!_ is what the pureblood wanted to shout, but he refrained and glowered instead. Neither he nor Hermione would forgive him if he revealed the truth to Harry and took that away from her, especially in a heated moment like this. And like Harry mentioned, Ron knew that pretending to be ignorant of her pregnancy or denying it would be pointless and liable to only anger Harry further. (And, while he honestly did not care about the dark haired wizard's feelings, he had customers and employees to consider and wanted to spare them from wrath).

"I don't owe you anything, _Harry_ , so don't make any bloody demands of me! I can't imagine _why_ you thought you'd get what you wanted by coming here," Ron retorted with conviction in his voice, "But even more than that, it's not my place to say! That is Hermione's right to tell and hers alone! And maybe in an old life she would've talked to you, you would've already known, had you not treated her like she was _worthless_!"

The tension between the pair was stark and intimidating as they stared each other down. Remembering his concern for his customers and the spell he had cast, the red head teetered on the verge of ordering Harry to leave his shop or face the consequences (e.g., having the Aurors called, engaging in a duel, being punched in the face) when the other wizard responded.

"I suppose it was misjudgment on my part, wasn't it? It's Hermione I need to see, then, and not you," he declared.

Before Ron could open his mouth to reply, Harry turned on his heel and strode out of the shop in a matter of steps, not bothering to make eye contact with anyone or anything else.

He Apparated to the Grangers' neighborhood to a spot that hid his sudden appearance well. Nothing could be done for the volume of it but perhaps it could be waved off as a firecracker or automobile problem to the residents. (He also did not care how loud it was).

Harry struggled to keep his feelings and body in check as he rapidly made his way to the house he needed. Breathing was difficult…. Goodness, he felt so unsteady, so sick. His brain could not process the news about Hermione. Going to see Ron had been a purely emotional reaction and fruitless, yes, but it had been more confirmation that she truly was pregnant. _Pregnant_!

The word sounded horrifying. It felt like a stab in the back.

But despite Klein's report and Ron's indirect admission, Harry had to see for himself. He had to know for himself and, until he did, he ran the risk of going crazy. He came upon the house soon enough with no definite plan other than to wait for however long was necessary, but he instantly realized that his wait would be non-existent.

Harry stopped short (and felt like time itself stopped with him) as he gawked across the street at the Grangers' driveway. All three members of the small family had just exited the car, with Darla helping her daughter get out from the backseat, but Harry paid hardly _any_ attention to anything that was not Hermione.

She was here… she _was_ here.

And, with his own, two eyes, he saw the brunette's overly large stomach and had final proof that she was unequivocally, inexplicably pregnant.

When the glass of the car's side mirrors burst apart abruptly into numerous, small shards, all of the Grangers reacted. Simon swore while his wife gasped, and the happy smile dropped from Hermione's face as she peered at the car in bewilderment before looking at her parents.

"What on Earth?," Darla pondered, appearing concerned, "What happened? Hermione, are you okay? Was that-" Conversely, her spouse was speaking before she could finish her thought.

"No… God, _no_ ," he murmured. Both women quickly glanced at him and noticed he was gazing at something across the street; feeling apprehensive, Hermione followed his line of sight and immediately blanched.

She dropped the single bag she was holding and missed her mother's cry of alarm. She felt all of the breath in her body leave in a massive rush as she stared at Harry, who was standing as stock still as she was and staring in return.

Harry.

Harry, the person she had not seen since December. Harry, the person who had nearly shattered her and caused her to flee England. Harry, the godforsaken father of the baby that was _currently inside of her_.

The baby he knew nothing about.

An overwhelming amount of emotion engulfed the witch, of which fear was at the forefront, but she could not look away from him; moreover, his gaze did not stray either. His heart was pounding something wicked and his face was crumpled in emotion. Harry was transfixed by her bulging stomach. He was now seeing it for himself- seeing _her_ for himself- and his brain felt like it was going to implode from the dissonance.

This… this could not be happening. Harry was _not_ here on her second day back, only separated from her by a road. Hermione was not here, _pregnant_ with a child that was the offspring of Merlin knew whom! (Someone who would face a lethal reckoning, that much he _did_ know).

This was surreal. This had to be a dream.

They were both dreaming!

Hermione did not even notice she was wheezing until she felt an insistent pull on her upper arm that came from her mother.

"Hermione, get in the house," Darla instructed in a wobbly voice, her own eyes glued to the young man across the street, "Let's go."

"I… I-I… it," she stammered in a voice that cracked. Her heart rate was much too high, another thing of which she became suddenly aware.

"Bunny, get inside." Simon added. His countenance was marred with rage and the entirety of it was aimed at Harry.

Hermione took a desperate inhale of breath and nodded weakly, blinking away a couple tears that were starting to form. She took another moment to continue gazing at Harry before turning on her heel and shuffling for the front door with Darla right behind her, a hand on her daughter's left shoulder. Consequently, it was not until Hermione made a move that Harry did. He was spurred into action with the realization that the Grangers were attempting to keep Hermione away from him, to prevent him from speaking to her, and he absolutely could not have that.

"Hermione," he stated in a raspy voice, as though he had not used it in months. The wizard cleared his throat and tried again, "Hermione!" He jumped into action and ran across the street without bothering to look for cars.

"Stay away!" Simon yelled at him.

"Hermione!"

The Grangers made it inside before Harry reached their lawn and Simon, the last one in, secured both locks on the front door. Their bags, full of items for Bea, had been dumped unceremoniously on the floor and Darla swiftly turned to Hermione.

"He'll have to be kept out!" she remarked.

"I know," the witch said. She already had her wand out and was waving it around the entire room, the windows and door, but did so with a trembling hand. She had only been at it for a few moments when thunderous knocking on the door resounded, causing all three of them to jump.

"Hermione," Harry's voice called through the barrier, " _Hermione_!"

The brunette peered at the door in slight horror and her wand stopped in mid-air.

"Hermione, open the door! Open the door now!" he ordered.

Oh, this was _everything_ Hermione had feared and everything she'd wanted to avoid. Harry had taken away her control, had bombarded her before she'd had the days needed to prepare herself. Fortify herself. Now she would have to scramble to keep her emotions from rendering her useless. She closed her eyes and put a hand on her swell before finishing her wand work. The pounding (and yelling of her name) on the door stopped and was transferred to one of the windows, the drapes having been left open for the sunlight to pour through.

"H-He can't see inside. We can see him but he can't see inside, a-and he can't open the door with magic, at least not without time and effort. I put up a fast ward," explained Hermione. Mrs. Granger looked worried about their chances of keeping Harry out and her daughter tried to assuage this.

"He can't Apparate inside either, remember?" she continued.

"But what if he _blasts_ his way in?! Dear, he is clearly _livid_ and his magic is!-"

"That's it! I'm calling the police!" Simon loudly interrupted with balled fists.

"Dad, no!" Hermione answered, turning to him.

"Why the hell not?!"

"It will make things so much worse!"

She envisioned a standoff between Harry and police officers, or saw him hurting them, whether accidentally or purposefully, imagined more officers needing to be called or the Ministry having to get involved because of his spiraling magic. It would be a disaster. The witch knew Harry's magic was unpredictable and powerful when his emotions were out of control and she could not risk something dangerous happening.

"Worse?! Hermione, he's beating down our door and shouting bloody murder!" Mr. Granger asserted, pointing. The wizard had moved from the window back to the front door.

"I… I'll talk to him!" she offered.

" _No_."

"No!" Darla cried, perching herself next to her husband. They were not allowing their daughter to go face the menace that was currently on their doorstep.

"I won't go outside! I'll do it through the door." Hermione remarked.

"Herm-"

"Something has to be done! He won't leave silently on his own."

Simon grit his teeth and ran a hand down his face. He wanted Harry forcefully removed without Hermione having to say a word to him but it did not look like that was an option.

"Fine," he bit out. His only child nodded weakly then gulped before waving her wand at the door and muttering to herself.

"Harry," she commenced in an unsteady voice. The noise from outside immediately stopped. It was silent for a long period while the Grangers all held their breath and waited to see what would happen next.

"Hermione." Harry stated. His voice sounded like it was teeming with emotion but the anger that had been apparent was missing. Hermione shut her eyes once more when she felt water breach her lids.

"Harry, you need to stop."

There was no reply. Mrs. Granger peered nervously at her husband.

"What… what are you doing here?" Hermione asked.

"I had to see you," came the reply.

"H-How did you know I was already in England?"

"That… doesn't matter."

He sounded bitter and Hermione frowned, feeling her first flare of anger. She had come to the quick conclusion that he _must_ have been watching her house in order to know that she had returned, and he had just brushed it off. Since she had given a time frame but not an exact day for her homecoming in her letter to him, there was no other explanation for his presence. The Muggleborn was frustrated that she had believed he would truly wait for her contact and not take matters into his own hands.

"Yes it does. I told you I would-" Hermione started.

"No it doesn't, Hermione! It doesn't! You're bloody _pregnant_!" Harry cut in. She paused, feeling her heart pick up speed. She had just lost her brief momentum.

"Y-Yes," she confirmed. Her throat closed up and she wiped away an unexpected tear. Her father put an arm around her shoulders.

"Why, why didn't… how am I… I mean- how could… _shit_!"

There was a thud against the door and it jolted somewhat. The family assumed the dark haired wizard must have kicked it but they had no way of knowing that he was also yanking at his hair and pacing. Hermione peered at her parents rather helplessly.

"I _need_ to know who the father is. You have to tell me." Harry stated once he had gained a bit of composure, "Some terrific dolt in whatever corner of the world you've made home, I'm left to think." Darla furrowed her brow while Simon's countenance darkened.

"You presume that to be your business, do you? What gives you the right?!" the older man questioned, jumping into the conversation.

He knew that Harry _did_ have the right to know that he himself was the baby's father but not the paternity of a baby that was not his, which Harry thought was the case. Either way, his entitlement was offensive.

"Dad." Hermione uttered, placing a hand on his shoulder. She shook her head, appearing sad and resigned.

"I-I was going to tell you, Harry, when we first spoke once I'd gotten back. I was going to do it over a fire call," the brunette continued.

"Then forgive me for ruining such a perfect plan! I know how you hate that." Harry sneered. She huffed and scowled at the door.

"My dad is right, though: you had no right to know that I was pregnant. Not in and of itself. Not with how our relationship ended. If the circumstances had been different, you probably would not have known at all! You didn't hold the same space in my life and you wouldn't have deserved it. And you _know_ that."

It was quiet again. Simon and Darla looked at their child with pride, glad that she had put him in place and even more satisfied that it seemed to have worked (if his stillness was an indication). She, however, was now watching the door in a weary manner and dropped her gaze to the floor before speaking.

"But… b-but that's in theory, and the truth is that… you do. You do deserve to know, Harry- strictly because of the issue of the father."

"Why, then? Why do I deserve to know if I _shouldn't_?" he wondered after a pause. His voice was low yet sounded sour (and wounded?).

Hermione took in as much air for her lungs as she could before glancing at her mother and father. They appeared anxious and crestfallen, which is precisely what she felt. All three knew this was it, this was the moment, despite it being _far_ from what the witch (had) wanted. Unfortunately, this was simply how it would have to be.

"Because it… it involves you," she noted on an exhale, "It _is_ you."

There. It was out.

She had done it. She had _said_ it.

Hermione had released the weight and finally told Harry that he was an expecting father. She had discovered her pregnancy at ten weeks and shared with him his involvement at the onset of her 34th week. Her hand had been forced but perhaps that was karma for waiting so long to let him know about the baby.

Meanwhile, it was like a bomb dropped for Harry- _on_ Harry. He was frozen as he stared at the door, mouth wide open. He didn't know what to think, what to make of her comment. What?

What had she just said?

 _What_?

He needed clarification because it could not possibly be...

"Hermione-" Harry commenced.

"It's… it's yours. Your baby. Ours. Harry, y-you're the father." Hermione revealed.

The ensuing silence was drawn out. It made the young woman more skittish the longer it persisted and she began fidgeting enough for Mrs. Granger to say something.

"Calm down, sweet." Darla whispered.

"I can't, I can't! He isn't responding! I-I don't know what to expect!" she claimed before hurrying to the window to see if Harry was still even on their porch. He was, in fact, and his vacant stare remained on the door as his arms hung lifelessly at his side. Hermione turned away and walked back to her parents, wringing her hands. She felt remorse and dread spike within her. God, this was all such a glorious mess!

"Harry?" she prompted, unable to take the stillness any longer. She heard quavery breath come from the other side of the barrier.

"I'm- _mine_?" the wizard finally croaked out, a hand going to clutch his chest.

"Yes. It's you." Hermione's voice sounded meek and it was only quiet for another instance before Harry verbalized more.

"How… how could you?"

"Everything's just been _so_ difficult," she commented as unfettered tears surfaced and Simon pulled her to him once more for comfort.

"I can't _believe_ you." Harry said. His tone had yet to alert the Grangers to the development that his expression had twisted with a scary passion.

"Harry, I spent _months_ thinking of-"

"How DARE you!"

The drastic change in his volume made the brunette flinch as tears spilled over. Well, he was tongue tied no more and she did not know if it was worse to have him fuming or silent.

"Do you know that I went to Wheezes to make Ron tell me who the father was?!," Harry seethed, causing Hermione's heart to plummet, "I-I thought it was someone else! Someone you'd met wherever the hell you are now, or even worse- that _prick_ , Heathcliff's! I felt out of my damn mind! And he refused to tell me, of _course_ , saying that it was your place to share that information! But he knew it was me, didn't he? He knew it was me and still told me to bugger off! I hope he got a good laugh over it, at least! I hope you _both_ have had tons of laughs over this for ages! Poor, stupid Harry! About to be a father and has no ruddy IDEA!"

"It isn't like that!" insisted Hermione.

"Isn't it?! When would I have known? When the kid was five years old?!"

"I wouldn't do that!"

"Hermione, open the _door_. You can _not_ keep me out after telling me something like that! Open it so we can bloody well _talk_!" he demanded, thumping the door once.

"We are not letting you in!" Mr. Granger spat.

"You're not in enough control right now," she supplemented, unconcerned about the tears rolling down her cheeks.

"What the hell do you expect?! You're _pregnant_ , for fuck's sake! And it's mine! It's OURS!" bellowed Harry.

"I-"

"Why would you keep that from me?! Are you that heartless? That selfish?!"

Both Granger women gasped at the accusations while Simon bristled. The irony of Harry calling her insensitive was too much for the young witch to bear.

"Don't _ever_ accuse me of being heartless or selfish, Harry Potter! Not you!," Hermione shouted, balling her fists as the tears continued, "Part of the reason I kept quiet was for my own peace of mind, my own safety!"

"Safety? I would _never_ hurt you!-" he started to snarl.

"Physically, no- you wouldn't. But mentally? Harry, you were _destroying_ me. You know that, don't you? You have to! And it was intentional after a certain point! I was _not_ going to subject myself to more of that!"

"So you hide the fact that you're going to have my baby?!"

"It's my baby too! And I didn't want to give you the chance to destroy them as well!" she revealed.

Hermione believed this subsequent silence was telling, that she could feel the shock from Harry through the door. When the wizard spoke again, it was in a chiding voice.

"You… you are…"

Hermione decided a few things at that very moment. She decided she did not want to hear what she was (in his eyes), she did not think this impassioned conversation was productive, and she did not want it to continue further. She was frazzled and merely wanted this dizzyingly high level of emotion to end.

"Harry, you should go." Hermione cut in. She wiped at her wet face before Darla took over the task.

"Excuse me?" he said through clenched teeth.

"You need to leave. Go home. You're in no state to discuss this right now and I don't want to talk about it like this. Not in this way."

"You want me to _leave_ after finding this out? Are you joking?! NO!"

"Go or this is it!," Hermione snapped, feeling undeniable sparks of magic emit from her hair, "If you don't leave, this will be the end! I will give birth at the end of summer and go back to the 'corner of the world I've made home' and never step another _foot_ in England for as long as I live! You will never see me again _or_ know your child!"

It was a hollow threat, she felt. She knew. She could not do any of that! But she was exhausted and just wanted to catch her breath before she was overwhelmed beyond belief.

"You don't want that and neither do I, so you need to _leave_ ," she claimed, "This… this is too much right now. I will fire call you very soon- I swear it."

The brunette waited for a response but it was very slow coming. It was totally quiet, in fact. All noise coming from outside had stopped. Hesitating, Hermione moved carefully to the closest window and peered out.

The porch was empty. Harry was gone.

She turned from the window and looked at her parents. With a heaving breath in, she began crying anew. She was weeping because she was frustrated and shaken, yes, but mostly because she was sad. That had been terrible and a stark reminder of Harry's lack of inclusion in her pregnancy. Hermione had had to do all of this without her baby's father and her sadness was amplified because it would not have been like this when she was younger. She would have had Old Harry by her side who was supportive, caring and concerned, and he would've given her hope that they could raise a child despite their youth. He would have not left her feeling the way she currently was.

"Oh, Hermione!," Mrs. Granger stated, hurrying to hold her daughter in her arms, "That _was_ too much! I'm so sorry."

"It shouldn't have been like this." Hermione sniffled.

"I know, Bunny."

"How do you feel physically? How's Bea? Are you lightheaded? Heart beating too fast? Any pain?" Simon wondered, frowning in concern.

"N-No. I'm not in pain." (Well, her heart was obviously beating like mad but why endorse that? _All_ of their heart rates were probably too high).

"That was entirely too much stress for you!" Darla attested, shaking her head.

"That was… _argh_!," her husband half shouted, "What is wrong with that boy?! I could just _kill_ him!"

"Daddy, please. It's not helping," pleaded Hermione, squeezing her eyes closed and hugging her mother tighter to soak up as much succor as she could.

* * *

Ron's stomach felt like it had dropped to the floor when Harry stormed out of the joke shop. He was instantly rocked by fear. He had feared for Hermione. He had feared Harry would ambush her and he had panicked because he did not understand how Harry knew about the pregnancy. To make matters worse, Ron knew that the confrontation at Wheezes would be in periodicals but lack the (true) content of what had happened. It would be pure speculation from the witnesses. Close enough to be caught in the bubble that _Muffliato_ had encompassed, his employee was the only person who had heard the discussion with Harry, and the employee had freely signed a magically binding statement promising their silence. (The employee had also been shaken and received a profuse apology from Ron and the rest of the day off for being caught in the crossfire).

After calming the storm as best he could, the red head attempted to leave Wheezes for the rest of his shift so he could get to Hermione and warn her, but that proved difficult since his leadership was needed with George's absence. His work obligations kept him from being able to see that plan through so he did the next best thing and Apparated to her house for a handful of minutes as soon as he was able. No one was home so Ron left a note for Hermione about Harry and begged her to reply to his message once she received it. He stayed on pins and needles for much too long (about two hours!) before he heard back from her. The paper vibrated in his pocket, indicating she had written back on the paper stationed at her house, and he ran to a vacant part of the showroom to read it. His blood ran cold when he read that she had already encountered Harry- that he had shown up on her porch in a right state- but there was some ease in knowing the witch had demanded his departure and he had listened.

Hermione suggested he come over once his shift was over and Ron wrote his acceptance, remembering that, originally, he had planned to see Lavender after work but knowing she would understand his tardiness when he saw her later and explained the dire circumstance. The pureblood Apparated to the Granger residence for a second time and found a ruffled Darla cleaning in the kitchen. She embraced him then directed him upstairs to Hermione's bedroom.

"She's resting after… what happened," she grimaced, "It's good you came."

Ron walked into the brunette's personal domain and saw that she was huddled in her bed, tucked into the sheets and blanket despite the summer day, with her cat at her feet. Crookshanks gave the wizard an owlish look that resembled approval (a rare thing indeed considering their history) before laying his head down again and flicking his tail. Hermione's face appeared drawn but when she saw him, and accepted his help to sit up against the headboard, she seemed relieved.

The pair discussed what happened for an hour. Ron was scandalized when he heard her postulation that Harry had been watching her house and regretted not striking against the other man in Wheezes when he'd had the chance. He was then reluctant upon discovering she was going to speak to him the next day.

"Are you sure you want it to be that quickly, considering what happened today?" he posed, struggling to keep the frown off his face.

"I have to, Ron. As much as I hated it, and as much as I'd rather just stay hidden in my bed and avoid it all, I have to. He reacted badly but he has every right to be shocked, and I can't, I can't keep silent after sharing that, after he's learned that he's going to have a child." Hermione said with a gulp. Ron felt the conflicted part of him whither with the reminder that Harry was the father of the baby.

"Do you want me to stay with you tonight? I can tell Lavender that something urgent came up and you need me." She grabbed his available hand, as his other was resting on her bump.

"No. Go see her. You've already done so much for me these past couple days… I know I can call you if I _do_ need help. And I'm not going anywhere, remember? Bea and I are back to stay."

* * *

Grimmauld was an utter wreck.

Well, _this_ part of Grimmauld was a wreck- this part that Kreacher had been unable to save when his master had gone on a rampage. The destruction had lasted three, long minutes before the elf could effectively intervene by magically bounding his master and locking him in the attic, and the damage had come after his master had arrived home and burst into instantaneous, hysterical laughter. Kreacher shook his head and surveyed the area, scolding himself for not subduing his master before the violent outburst. It had been apparent then something was definitely wrong, seeing as the man had crumbled to the floor and laughed for 20 minutes straight, but Kreacher only watched him nervously for a few minutes before returning to his household duties. The elf popped back into the room once he heard a distracting roar and the sound of something significant breaking, and it was to witness Harry up and demolishing the next something in the room.

Eyes floating to the ceiling, Kreacher wondered if his master had reverted back to laughter. He had experienced unstable behavior from wizards before, what with having served a deranged family for countless years, so he knew his magic would hold, but he just wondered how long it would be necessary.

The answer to this was nine hours. Kreacher would visit every hour to determine if he could cancel his binding yet Harry's response was always mute catatonia (although it had included screaming the first trip), but his last visit resulted in his master speaking.

"Let me out, Kreacher. Lift your magic," he instructed in a hollow tone, "I'm all right now."

The elf gazed at Harry before nodding once and waving both hands. Harry muttered out his gratitude as he lifted himself from the floor and made the trek to his bedroom.

"Master must be hungry." Kreacher posited, following him.

"I have no appetite. I'll wait til morning," he relayed, "Don't disturb me before then. Good night."

Harry did not bother to turn on the lights once he entered his room and closed the door. He stayed in the dark as he went to the bathroom to relieve himself and sagged onto his bed once finished, peering at the floor. It was a few minutes before he moved again, but when he did it was to put his face into his hands and start crying.

Harry's sleep was, predictably, appalling that night. He received about two hours in total and they were not even consecutive. His appetite had not returned but he ate breakfast anyway, despite not tasting anything that went into his mouth. The wizard ambled around his home like a waif afterward, lost in thought. Thought and pain.

There was _so_ much pain. Pain over Hermione's declaration (and the truth) that their relationship had ended, pain that she had kept the pregnancy from him for most of it, and pain that she had done it to prevent him from potentially "destroying" the baby. Their baby. He was going to have a baby. He was going to be a _father_.

In 24 hours, his entire universe had been upended. It had happened to Harry (too) many times before in his life but this time ranked up there with dying by Voldemort's hand and coming back to life.

"Master." Kreacher uttered, entering whatever room Harry had managed to amble into later that afternoon.

"What?" he wondered in a monotone, watching the ceiling.

"You is having a fire call."

"I don't want to talk to anyone."

"But it is Miss Hermione," reported Kreacher.

Harry shot from the sofa and out the room so quickly that the elf thought he Apparated for a second before he jumped to and scrambled after him. He was already crouched in front of the main living room's hearth when Kreacher caught up so he allowed his master his privacy and took his leave.

Hermione and Harry stared at one another with disparate countenances. She looked overwrought while he looked stony but they both appeared fatigued. Since she was prematurely whisked out of his sight the previous day, he took the opportunity now to study the face he had not seen since last year. Despite the emotional strain, Harry detected obvious differences than before she had left England, differences that were borne from her pregnancy. Hermione's face was rounder, her hair seemed more lustrous (and untamable) than ever, and her breasts, because he had a view of her upper chest, were noticeably big. All because she was carrying life within her.

She spoke first, feeling pressured and awkward (and scrutinized) by his staring.

"This… this is my 34th week of pregnancy," the brunette breathed out, "Do you know how many weeks there are?" He shook his head but did not drop his gaze.

"Forty. So, so I'm eight and a half months." Hermione revealed, playing with her fingers in her lap. Harry nodded twice.

She bit her lip and her fingers moved faster while he remained still and quiet.

"It's a boy," she informed. This seemed to finally infuse life into him because he exhaled and looked away.

"A boy," he mumbled. She nodded eagerly.

"He moves _all_ the time."

One corner of his mouth twitched up but did not stay.

"When is he due?" asked Harry.

"Mid-September, a few days before my birthday." Hermione answered.

"And if I hadn't caught you yesterday, when were you planning on telling me?"

She gazed at him, her eyes widening and fingers halting their dancing. The dark haired wizard looked angry and hurt, with flared nostrils and a film of water in his green eyes. She felt her heart constrict.

"I _told_ you, Harry- when we spoke for the first time once I was back! It was going to be the first thing I did! I'd wanted to do it tomorrow, actually, and I was also going to tell you that I'd moved back to Britain."

Harry reeled back and his mouth fell open.

"What?" he said.

"Yes. I'm back home. I'm staying. I'm in Canada- _was_ in Canada- but I need to raise the baby here. I realized that. Everyone I know is here and you're here, and you're his father." Hermione attested.

"Is… is that why you really left- because you found out you were pregnant? Did you plan to raise the baby away from me but now you've changed your mind?"

" _No_! I found out I was pregnant only weeks after getting to Canada. I didn't know before I left England; I hadn't a clue!"

"Would you have told me if you'd known while you were still here?" Harry inquired.

"Yes," she stated.

"Would you have stayed if you'd known while you were still here?"

She peered at him but did not reply right away.

"You have no idea how utterly torn down by you I was at that time, Harry. I was desperate for a break. I needed it or I would have fallen apart."

He glared at her, feeling a fresh rush of pain as New and Old Harry grappled. He himself had been desperate in her absence and he _had_ fallen apart, thank you for that! He felt an inclination to lash out but it was quickly overcome by her assertion that he had torn her down. _Torn_. That he had soiled Hermione so profoundly she had dropped her life and moved clear across Earth to get away from him… that she would have most likely made the same choice even if she'd known she was carrying their child beforehand.

Had he soiled her enough that she had contemplated ridding of the baby simply because _he_ had helped create it?

Harry felt his very soul plummet at this thought. It was jarring enough that he was robbed of breath and had to put a hand against the ground to steady himself. He had endless questions, questions that had had plenty of time to form the prior night during his attic exile. They were crowding his brain and jumping to get out, but the devastation of what Hermione had last said and what he'd last thought had stopped him in his tracks.

"Who knows?," Harry mumbled, unable to look at her. This was a safe question, "That you're pregnant."

"The Weasleys, Luna, and Neville. Lavender, too, because I told Ron it was okay, but she doesn't know who the father is," Hermione remarked, "That's it."

"You wrote to them?"

"I've… I've seen them. This isn't my first time back since I left. I've come a few times." She admitted it in a hushed voice and he brought his eyes to her face again. He knew this, of course, due to Klein, but he was not going to tell her that. It would send her off the edge.

The pair spoke for a decent amount of time. There was marked tension, yes, but essentially no hostility, although Harry was tested at the conversation's end.

"When's the next time I'll see you?" he inquired.

"I'll call you again a bit later in the week," the witch commented, experiencing an inkling of optimism. He shook his head.

"I want to _see_ you, Hermione. In person."

The optimism was dashed. She hesitated in answering, fingers going back to work as she gazed at him.

"I-I'm not ready for that. Not just yet."

Harry had trouble keeping a scowl from dominating his features so it looked like he was eating a large lemon. He gave no reply.

"I will apologize again, Harry, for keeping the baby from you for so long. I was scared but it wasn't at all fair to you," Hermione recognized, "With that being said, I need you to know that's the _only_ thing I'm apologizing for. Nothing else. Nothing else I did was wrong, and that includes leaving. I did it for myself."

She bid goodbye then signed off without hearing another word from him while he sat near the empty fireplace for another hour. The following evening, Harry received a thin, flat package and was inspirited to see that it was from Hermione. He tore into it and discovered multiple photographs of the young woman, photographs that showed her cradling a progressively expanding belly in each one. The number of weeks she had been at the time was written on the back of every picture and there was a perfunctory note to accompany the pictures as well.

_I thought you might appreciate visual documentation of my pregnancy while I was gone. I'd like to keep the tradition even now that I'm back._

_Happy 20th birthday, Harry._

His eyes watered at the images before him and at the realization that yesterday _had_ been his birthday and he'd forgotten.

He'd forgotten his own birthday but she hadn't. She hadn't forgotten him. She _never_ did, and these photos were staunch proof.

And for the first time in a long Harry was at the mercy of an unforgiving vessel: his own shame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the longest chapter to date and more reminiscent of my chapter lengths for Stone Heart.
> 
> So Hermione and Harry have their showdown, at last. I was supposed to include quite a bit more from a plot standpoint but their interactions and dialogue ran away from me and commandeered this chapter. But they have a lot of time and feelings to make up for and talk through, and it's just gratifying being able to write them now that they're quasi reunited.


	8. Chapter 8

When Hermione spoke to Harry again later in the week on Thursday, she was not anticipating the conversation getting off to a brusque start so quickly.

"Thank you for the photos," he mumbled, jumpstarting their dialogue.

He had surveyed every tiny detail in every photo Hermione had sent two days previously and bemoaned the fact that he had missed it. Missed the experience of her pregnancy- of a life changing event that _should_ have involved him- and knowing that, ultimately, it was _his_ fault that he had. Harry continued to struggle to accept it two days later and knew the journey to do so was only at its beginning. Naturally, this affected his mood.

"You're welcome," she replied with a gentle smile.

"It's nice to have them since I wasn't able to be a part of the… the pregnancy."

"You're part of it now, for the rest of it. And you'll be there for his birth… if you want to be."

"Of course I do," he bit out, giving her a sharp look.

"And what about his life? Are you going to be a part of that? A _reliable_ part, a part I can trust?" Hermione prompted, her brow drawn in warning. She would not put up with his tetchiness today. She was irritable herself, what with swollen feet and ankles, the August heat, and worry over meeting her new maternity Healer in an hour (a meeting of which Harry became aware when they spoke on Monday).

"Despite not knowing about him until a whopping five days ago, I am not going to ignore this baby, Hermione."

"No. You can't ignore, dismiss, or manipulate him. You can't treat him like you did me."

"We've barely begun to talk and this is where you take us?" he grit out, gesturing with a hand in exasperation.

"Take us where? To the truth? Do you not want to hear it? Not want to hear that you did all of those things?," the witch challenged, "Well I'm sorry, Harry, but those things are branded in my mind! _Your_ actions! They're why I left and I am worried that they'll happen again."

The wizard was glowering now but her words made him feel like he had been punched in the gut. Like the pictures, they were a reminder of his failings. Hermione sighed and ran both hands through her hair, attempting to start over.

"I couldn't _stand_ it if you came in and out of Bea's life as you pleased, with no way to know what mood you'd be in each time. It would be too damaging, something I know from experience. I can't allow that," she explained. He remained quiet with the angry look on his face but she continued, "I, I need to know that you're serious about this. About him. About being his father."

"And how are you going to judge whether or not I'm serious?" Harry asked in a gravelly voice. The brunette glanced at him and appeared somewhat unsure.

"I-I want your word. Your follow through to... _mend_ certain issues."

"What issues?"

"Well, the first is for you to stop drinking excessively. I don't know if that changed in the time I left but it concerned me, and when I tried to say anything you always shot me down so I stopped. I don't want Bea around someone with a drinking problem, especially a parent, but it's not healthy for you either." Hermione shared.

His alcohol consumption had reduced in her absence but not because he had made concentrated efforts to stop. His brain had merely been preoccupied with more important pursuits, like her. He stared at her for a moment before saying:

"What else?"

"Stop spending time with seedy people. That was another concern I had before the move. You weren't revealing in _what_ you did but I knew it wasn't with the right sort."

"That stopped the moment you left so score one for me there. Anytime I'm out now, it's alone." Harry declared.

Hermione was both relieved and troubled by this admission. Troubled because she wondered if he had no outings or interactions with other people at all, troubled because she wondered if he was socially isolated as he had been in the months after defeating Voldemort. (Like the drinking, _that_ was not healthy for him either).

"I see," the Muggleborn said.

"Anything more?" he asked.

"It'd be helpful if you could be better with my parents."

He made a face at this statement.

"What do you mean 'be better'?"

"Be more civil, less… pugnacious. Confrontational," she remarked, clarifying the definition of her initial word.

"Your _dad_ is the one who looks at me like he wants to skin me alive. I can't open my mouth without him having a go at me!" Harry insisted, the angry look back in place.

"That's because of what comes _out_ of your mouth. He isn't naturally antagonistic!"

"So it's all on me, then, to _do better_? Only me?"

"No. I asked my parents to try more with you, as well," Hermione claimed, "This is hard enough without everyone fighting. We will _have_ to get on, for the baby's sake. It can't be any other way."

"Are there any other demands you have of me so I can be in my kid's life?" he inquired, sounding sarcastically polite.

"Forgive me- were those basic requests too hard for you?," the brunette scoffed, becoming angry herself, " _Demands_? Really, Harry?!"

"That's what they are! You're giving me ultimatums! Abide by these or be blocked from his life!"

"They're simple, common sense things parents do for their children! And you have a problem with them?"

"No, my _problem_ is that I'm still wrapping my head around the fact that I'm going to have a child. And I haven't had a say in _any_ of this, Hermione! You're controlling it all! I woke up one day and was a father. That was it. No input, no discussion- nothing! The choice was made _for_ me!" the dark haired wizard exclaimed.

Their voices had risen and both appeared borderline furious but Hermione was rocked by guilt at this assertion. Harry was right. She had made the decision to be a parent for him… because whether he was active in Bea's life or not, he would always be a parent. She thought of how she would feel if someone had done the same to her. She thought of how, in only three days, he had to process the reality of seeing her again and the crushing weight of impending fatherhood. But Hermione also thought of past decisions Harry had made without her input or consent that affected her life. They may not have been _as_ significant as a baby but they had been numerous, and often hurtful.

The two of them had so much emotional baggage to unpack, so much they had to discuss, and it felt like they were already splintering from surface level matters. There was so much damage to wade through that it was formidable.

"I know. I-I know you had no say in the matter about Bea. I understand. It shouldn't have been that way," Hermione conceded, dropping the volume of her voice drastically, "But _I_ had no say when I asked you to let me alone and you refused, when you kept harassing me. I had no say when you _ruined_ my relationship with someone I thought made me happy."

Harry closed his eyes and exhaled at the agonizing realization that she could have been talking about her relationship with Troy Heathcliff or her relationship with Harry himself. The fire that had burned in his belly was instantly doused. It was quiet as they morosely gathered their thoughts.

"I just need to know if you can do those things, Harry. What you called ultimatums," she mentioned, sounding weary.

"Yes," he uttered in a gruff tone after a long pause.

"Good."

Their conversation did not last as long as their first but it ended the same way. They briefly talked about her Healer appointment at the top of the hour and then Harry referenced an in person meeting.

"I want to see you," he reported, his jaw set.

"It's only been three days. I'm still not ready." Hermione answered.

"When will you be?"

"I don't know. I've not even been back a full week yet; I'd like to not feel rushed."

"Well it's not like we have all the time in the world! You won't be pregnant for much longer." Harry crossly told her. She huffed and frowned heavily before stating:

"I'm not giving birth _tomorrow_. I just want to feel comfortable before I see you."

" _Comfortable_? Do you think I'm going to bloody eat you or something?!"

"I'm not ready. You'll simply need to wait," the witch attested, her voice flat and countenance riddled in annoyance, "Don't get impatient and make me ward my entire property against you so you can't get within ten meters of the house."

His face twisted in an unattractive scowl and he hissed something at her before he briskly disappeared from her hearth. Hermione stared into the darkened fireplace, momentarily shocked. She was not surprised that Harry had left so quickly because he was upset by her answer, no (although it was rude). She was shocked because what had fallen from his lips had been Parseltongue! She knew that Harry still retained the linguistic ability despite Voldemort's death; she had known that for two years now. But Hermione was rooted to her spot because hearing it had reminded her of her (first) pregnant, sex dream about him.

The details flashed through her brain for the 9,000th time since having it and she exhaled. Remembering the content, coupled with his last remark about _eating_ her and how complementary it was with the dream, well, now she felt a bit hot and bothered. The brunette clenched her teeth and growled in her throat. How in God's name could she be getting turned on right now? What was wrong with her! They had argued for most of their conversation, Harry had likely said something scathing in Parseltongue… she fully blamed (and cursed) her pregnancy libido for the discrepancy. When Hermione felt hearty wriggling from Bea (as he was too large now to move more fully), she peered down at her belly and narrowed her eyes.

"Don't you start with me too, sweetheart," she warned her son, "I'd rather not meet Healer Umaru in a nasty mood."

Trish Umaru arrived 15 minutes later and met with all three Grangers, as the mother-to-be wanted her parents with her for support for the transition. The Nigerian witch looked to be in her late 30s, some 20 years younger than Quinn, and she was direct yet notably warmhearted. She had a couple instruments with her that she had shrunken and an awed Simon was able to see the magical hologram of his grandchild when Umaru performed the charm. The appointment lasted a bit over an hour as the Healer, even with the records from Quinn, wanted to be especially thorough and know everything about Hermione's pregnancy.

"You've only got six weeks before he's here so I want to help you to the best of my ability," she explained.

Umaru also came to realize that her new patient was uneasy when discussing the baby's father so she kept the questions about him minimal (and remained totally unaware of his identity). When she left the family, she bid them goodbye until the beginning of Hermione's 36th week and reminded them that she would see mother and baby on a weekly basis after that. The Grangers agreed that they all liked the Healer and the young witch stated that she felt comfortable with her, so she was pleased with the choice she and Quinn had made.

Hermione called Debbie on the phone the following day and was happy to be able to connect with her friend again. Incidentally, Sunday was another day for her friendships: she and Fleur accepted an invitation to Ginny's and Luna's whimsical townhouse for tea, and she was grateful for the girl time. Some of the visit was spent discussing her pregnancy and what was in store while some was spent discussing her life since moving home, which meant discussing Harry. The other women were revolted by how he had ambushed Hermione, glad to hear that she was staying firm with him, and curious to know more about his reaction to the baby since his initial explosion.

"I should have told him sooner- that's obvious. And I apologized to him for that. But I told him I was apologizing for nothing else." Hermione shared, absently watching a scone.

"It's good you made that clear." Ginny said.

"When will you speak to him next?" Luna questioned in a tender voice.

"Tomorrow. He's respecting my wishes for some distance, at least," the Muggleborn reported.

"I can't imagine 'ow 'ard thiz iz for you, 'Ermione, especially because thiz iz not just any man. It'z 'Arry." Fleur commented, gazing at her in sympathy and thinking of her own pregnancy. Hermione could not maintain eye contact with the French witch and looked away when she felt a sudden rush of emotion and potential tears.

"I never imagined any of this. For neither of us," she remarked, "After Voldemort fell, I never imagined Harry would… fall apart. He shouldn't have. H-He didn't deserve to." She rubbed her nose and kept her gaze down as a silence befell them.

"And because you love him, you fell with him," Luna noted after the pause, her silky voice wrapping around all of them, "And it's not fair because you didn't deserve it either."

Hermione brought her tearful eyes up to meet the blonde's patient stare, very aware that her friend had said 'love' and not 'loved.'

* * *

Hermione's 35th week revolved around abject frustration. She was beyond tired of having to pee multiple times each day, tired of being exhausted, and she experienced more of those damned Braxton Hicks. They, however, were the most bearable they had ever been because she had her mother with her for the very first time. Bea's reliable squirming was the bright spot through all of her vexation that week and she talked to him whenever he did so, asking him if he was getting his affairs in order for his big move.

Hermione's talks with Bea's _father_ that week were a different story.

She quickly noticed that her twice weekly fire calls with Harry were like navigating a landmine. She never knew when a single word or sentence would make one of them detonate and release a torrent of animosity, and it was hard to safely retreat once it had happened. Conversely, that was not to say that every conversation was a yelling match. Their chat on Monday, for example, was relatively smooth and free of (overt) anger; Hermione told Harry about the first meeting with Umaru and revealed that her parents would start redesigning the spare bedroom to be a partial nursery. When it came time for their second call later in the week, though, nothing about the civil nature of the first conversation carried over. The strain returned, Bea was not the main topic (although every talk up to that point had centered around him), and the dark haired wizard's bitterness over not seeing her made a comeback. Hermione also delved into a sensitive yet gnawing matter, and it was this matter that made the explosive go off.

"I want to know something, Harry," the brunette ventured in a heedful tone.

"Yeah?" he answered.

"Your letter. In the letter you wrote to me, you said you wanted to speak to me, a-about many things. The last time we were together before I left, your treatment of me after the war..."

Harry made a dissatisfied noise and looked away from her, and it caused her face to become stony.

"Were those lies, then? What you put in the letter?" she questioned.

"No. No, they weren't. I just-"

"Just what?"

"Do we have to do this now?" the wizard wondered. His left hand dove into his hair from agitation.

"If not now then when? Do you want to avoid it forever?" Hermione prompted.

"I wonder the same thing when you refuse to see me," She looked at him with a blank stare once more but he pressed on, "How about we talk about all of that when I can finally see you in person?"

"Maybe I'd feel more comfortable seeing you if we'd start to talk about the multitude of things you did and the issues we had."

"Back to controlling everything, I see." Harry observed through clenched teeth. Hermione closed her eyes and released a deep breath. She did not want to do this with him at the moment. Did not want to go there. She knew he was likely deflecting but she was not letting him completely off the hook.

"You don't want to jump into all of that today. Fine," she bit out, her eyes open again and narrowed, "Can you at least tell me why you had the audacity to do what you did in regard to Troy? Can we at least start there?"

Hermione did not know if she imagined it or not but she thought she witnessed him flinch before he peered at the floor. He stayed silent and she took it as a miniscule glimmer of hope since he was not explicitly denying her the chance to discuss it.

"Was it retaliation? Your way of getting back at me because I shut you out?" the Muggleborn probed.

"No," came the clipped response.

"Why did you do it, then?"

Harry's silence and avoidance of eye contact persisted but this time it flustered her, making her temper rise. He was _not_ going to evade this one (yet critical) question. He owed her this starting point.

"You _used_ me, Harry. You used me for a year but that night was the worst!," insisted Hermione, eyes displaying her emotion, "It was low. You used me for sex despite my heartbreak, heartbreak that was entirely _your_ fault!"

"I didn't force him to cheat on you," he retorted, breaking his trance, "And I didn't use you for sex despite what you believe, that night or at any other point!"

"So you came to gloat to yourself, to see the damage you had done. The sex was merely a bonus!"

"You were beside yourself! I thought it would make you feel better!"

And he had believed that. Harry had not gone to her home that night with the intention of sleeping with or comforting her, really, but when he found himself doing the latter, he thought the former would help ease her distress.

"I was beside myself due to _your_ manipulation!" Hermione revealed.

"I just couldn't see you with Heathcliff anymore, all right?!," Harry suddenly shouted, curling a fist, "You want to know why? That's why! It drove me round the bend so I had to do something!"

She looked at him in stark surprise, her mouth open and brow pulled down. It took her a moment to compose herself after his admission. She swallowed, hoping she could get a little more out of him as to why it had been so hard for him.

"Why? Why did it matter to you so much that I was with him?," Hermione inquired. She pushed some of her hair behind an ear, "Because you didn't monopolize my time anymore? You spat on the time I _did_ give you, Harry. Repeatedly. You showed that you didn't want it, or me, so why did it matter if I had Troy?"

_Because you were done with me and I couldn't have that. Couldn't handle that,_ the wizard thought. His hands were gliding through his black strands in repetition and it took him a while before he verbalized something.

"You were all I had left," mumbled Harry.

Hermione's breath staggered and she felt her chest constrict as she stared at him. That was the most open- the most _unguarded_ \- statement he had said to her in what felt like decades. Those six words held such importance. They highlighted Harry's truth(s): his feelings, his fears, his motivation. They were a promising peak into his cagey mind and they were enough for her. For now.

The witch thought she could lay this conversation to rest for the time being but had one last remark for his ears.

"I hope you understand how despicable it was: what you did to my relationship. Just how devious," she murmured, peering at him.

"I never denied that it was." Harry mentioned, sounding listless.

It was silent once more. Hermione kept glancing at him but his eyes were rooted to a spot on the floor. She had not known what his reaction might be but she had not expected him to all but wilt, so now she had to adjust her demeanor.

"I… I'm seeing Healer Umaru on Monday. I'll tell you about it when we talk that evening," she shared after an uncomfortable cough.

"Mmm."

"Right, then... I'll be off now. If you need to call me before Monday, you can," He finally brought his gaze up to hers. She had not offered that to him since her return, "Bye, Harry."

That chat left Hermione feeling strange yet a bit lighthearted. She'd had to push the dark haired wizard beyond what he wanted but it had yielded something and given her (them) a start. Yes, they had miles to go, on top of bringing a baby into the world, but a step was a step.

Monday arrived and took Hermione into her 36th week. She had one month left before Bea's birth and the nerves, both good and bad, kicked into high gear. Simon took an hour and a half away from the practice to be with her for the appointment with Umaru and the Healer discussed the importance of monitoring her new patient in these last weeks. She explained that Bea would drop lower into her pelvis any day now to prepare for his arrival and warned that Braxton Hicks would be more frequent, as would trouble sleeping.

"I'll start waddling and sleep is officially a thing of the past. How marvelous." Hermione griped, making the Healer and her father smile.

Umaru also told the young mother to pay special attention to every one of her body's functions during the week and contact her if anything at all seemed abnormal. Bea had a few more weeks before his introduction but they wanted to be ready if he got impatient and came early. As promised, Hermione regurgitated her appointment to Harry that evening during their fire call. He seemed quite intrigued and asked a surprising number of questions about her specific experiences and pregnancy in general. The landmine was, thankfully, dormant for this conversation and it niggled at a thought of hers that had risen (and gained traction) since her previous chat with him.

Hermione spent most of Tuesday with Ron. They traveled to the Burrow in the early afternoon and Molly was happy to see her surrogate daughter, affectionately clucking over how very pregnant the brunette was and the radiance it provided her. Hermione stated that she felt like "three lorries rolled into one" and was far from radiant but Mrs. Weasley insisted, even recruiting Ron to affirm the luster his best friend exuded. The Muggleborn listened to Molly give advice about taking care of an infant and answered questions about her professional and personal plans following Bea's birth; consequently, she answered some of the older woman's frank questions about Harry as well. Hermione was still fraught when she spoke about Harry with others (and with the man himself half the time) but it was inevitable at this stage. What was more, these people were her wizarding family, a family that had once been Harry's, too. A family that had treasured him.

"It feels good to hear that he wants to be involved as a father. Very good," Molly attested, peering at Hermione's stomach wistfully, "And who knows? Maybe having a child will help Harry… help bring him round. Help bring him back."

The pointed interval of quiet that followed spoke to the older woman's unfaltering desire and despair: despair over losing Harry and the desire to be reconnected. Others in her family may have moved on from this sentiment but she had not, and perhaps she never would… just as she would never stop grieving the absence of Fred.

"Yeah. Maybe it will, Mum." Ron stated, squeezing his mother's right shoulder in a loving gesture. He glanced at Hermione with a despondent frown as Molly, with now watery eyes, leaned into his touch. Somehow, he did not have the same hope as his mother.

Hermione was given a large box of new baby items from Mrs. Weasley (and Fleur) before she and Ron left the Burrow. She was excited to receive them because, although Bea had plenty of things already and would not want for anything, they were all Muggle. She was eager to have magical items for him and had not purchased any herself, having not yet ordered from a catalog or ventured into the wizarding public since moving home.

"You're going to be well taken care of, kid." Ron remarked, shifting the box underneath his arm and earning two smiles from the witches.

Two days later, Hermione gave voice to the idea that had burgeoned in her head for the past week, and she did so to Harry. It made her heart pump more frantically in her chest but she knew it was the right thing to do, and she considered that it could move them to a better place.

"My appointment with Healer Umaru next week is on Tuesday and…," she revealed, trying to keep a steady voice, "And I thought that you'd… thought it could be good for you to attend. To join me."

Harry stared at her with a stunned expression and did not say anything for a long while. It was one of the rare times Hermione had seen him speechless from something other than dissent or anger.

"I… you want me there?" he eventually inquired.

"You're Bea's father. You should be there."

Harry looked away, still in semi shock. He had the chance to be able to see her at last, something he had tenaciously sought for three weeks now. Not only that, he had the opportunity to be directly involved in his _son's_ development for the first time. And it was coming from Hermione! There was absolutely no way he would bypass this.

"Yeah. Y-Yeah, I'll come," the wizard confirmed. She nodded, chewing her lip and releasing a noiseless breath.

"It's at a quarter to noon. You can come a bit before that. Just... knock on the front door," she advised. He gave her a counter nod, gazing at her with an intensity of which he was not aware.

Five days. He would get to see (be with) Hermione in five days.

* * *

It was 11:30AM and Harry felt stupidly skittish as he rotated his wrists in tandem, standing on the Grangers' porch. The last time he faced down this door he had screamed at Hermione, although he had zero intention of doing that today. Today, he had been _invited_ and he would not let that go in vain. It took another minute before he was able to calm himself enough to knock and he unknowingly held his breath until the door swung open.

Harry thought he must have felt every, single feeling that existed on the spectrum of emotion as he peered at Hermione. Incidentally, having this thought was an impressive feat in itself because his mind went entirely blank as he took in her face. He suddenly did not know what to do or how to react, but it was of little consequence because she seemed to be just as seized by the moment as he was. Hermione stared at him in equal measure while her hand remained immoble on the doorknob, and it took the barking of a neighborhood dog to break the trance.

"Hello," she greeted faintly, gripping the knob tighter.

"Hello," repeated Harry in a low voice. He swallowed before there was a beat of silence that threatened to consume them.

"C-Come in."

The wizard nodded and followed her into the home but his eyes did not stray to anything else in the vicinity. They stayed faithfully on Hermione's form.

"My parents are at their practice," the brunette relayed. She had led him to the formal sitting room, where all of her Healer appointments took place, and was (nervously) looking at him once more.

Darla and Simon had been wholly against their daughter attending the appointment with no one but Harry. They worried about the pair being alone together and attempted to dissuade her from initially meeting him during their absence. Hermione was anxious about it, yes, but she also thought enough time had passed and enough boundaries had been set with Harry that she could handle it on her own.

"Nothing has been as bad as when he found out I was back. Things are... mostly all right when I talk to him and he hasn't done anything outrageous," she'd explained to her parents on Saturday.

"That doesn't mean he won't." Simon asserted.

"What could he do?"

"Verbally attack you again. Possibly _kidnap_ you!"

Darla had gasped and admonished her husband for suggesting such a thing, and Hermione waited for them to squabble a bit while she resolutely told herself her father was being over the top because Harry would not sink _that_ far and take such a drastic step. (He would not kidnap her. He would _not_. There was no space in her mind for that to become a fear)!

"He's just coming for the Healer appointment," she'd declared, putting a stop to that notion, "It's his first, and, as Bea's father... I think he should have that."

Hermione thought it would be better for the two of them, for their shadow of a relationship or partnership as Bea's parents or _whatever_ they were classified as, if there was no interference. No hostile third party making the situation even more strained than what it would already be, and while she understood her parents' argument and knew it carried weight, she did not give in to it.

As such, facing Harry now, alone in the family's sitting room, was entirely on her.

"Where's Crookshanks?" the wizard posed.

"Somewhere outside. I saw him leave the house an hour ago." Hermione said, playing with her fingers. He nodded and continued his relentless staring before observing:

"You're… so pregnant."

For a brief moment, everything melted away and she seemed like the witch he had known during Hogwarts. A small smile formed on her lips and something of a giggle left her mouth as she fought to suppress a full out grin.

"Erm, yes," she confirmed.

She was more than just immensely pregnant, however, Harry realized. Dressed in a robin egg blue sundress, with bountiful hair, round cheeks and ample cleavage, Hermione came across as captivating, the feeling of which was intensified by their months of separation. All in all, she appeared beautiful to him. But Harry did not think he could not say that aloud, believing it to be too off putting (hell, he himself was thrown by the observation), so he bit his tongue instead and remained quiet.

"Would you like anything?" she questioned.

_Yes. To touch you,_ was his immediate thought, and oh how it was true. The need was becoming overwhelming, actually, but, like the observation of her beauty, he was not going to vocalize or act on that. He shook his head while she nodded hers in acknowledgment and cleared her throat.

The pair stood awkwardly in the thick atmosphere and had stunted conversation until Umaru arrived. Hermione came to life and welcomed the other woman, glad for the opportunity to feel less suffocated by Harry's presence. The Healer had received a message from Hermione three days earlier indicating that the baby's father (no name given) would be present on Monday and it had pleased Umaru. Conversely, as she fully attuned to the new person in the room and prepared to introduce herself, she stopped short and found that she was a little too late in stopping shock from shaping her features.

Because the person- the man- Umaru was looking at was none other than Harry Potter… and that could only mean _he_ was the father.

They peered at one another as the deduction settled in the Healer's mind, and she saw that he looked heedful and unfriendly as he sized her up. And could she truly blame his suspicion, knowing who he was? Knowing who her patient was? Especially knowing they had both all but disappeared from the wizarding world nine months ago? It all seemed to fit together and Umaru felt a rush of empathy for the pair. She refused to make this harder on them so she schooled her expression to one of warm professionalism and offered him a real smile.

"And you must be Dad," the Healer said, "I'm Healer Umaru. It's a pleasure to meet you! I'm glad you could be here."

Harry glanced at Hermione before visibly relaxing his body a smidgen. He muttered his agreement to Umaru's greeting and finally took a seat next to the brunette, who had a fleeting yet hopeful smile at the interaction. The Healer gave him a summary of her time with Hermione thus far and the results of mother's and baby's health. She also asked him a few questions about himself but made sure they were not too invasive, as he answered but was not exactly forthcoming. After going over the expectations of week 37 and asking Hermione about the preceding week, Umaru performed a number of charms on the younger witch and reported that Bea had moved lower into her pelvis with his head down.

"He's getting ready to meet you!" she commented.

The hologram charm was performed as was routine and Harry got to see his son for the very first time. It floored him. His mouth dropped open as he gawked at the image of Bea and witnessed his child ( _his_!) writhe in a lazy manner. He was so caught up that he unconsciously grabbed Hermione's hand to steady himself and, while it initially startled her, when she saw the thunderstruck look on his face, she did not have the heart or desire to pull away. (The grip only tightened when Harry heard Bea's heartbeat with an additional flick of the Healer's wand).

"He's gotten so big… but still moves as much as he pleases," the Muggleborn pointed out, registering the new downward position of the baby.

Harry, riveted, did not utter a peep while Bea's image floated before them and he did not release Hermione's hand until Umaru cancelled the charm. He was very quiet afterward and remained that way once the Healer bid farewell until next week and departed. Now, Hermione sat casually with her left hand on her swell while he was pitched forward with his elbows on his knees, gazing at her belly. The visit had been a lot for Harry to take in and he was contemplating; it had caused certain gears in his head to turn that had been stationary up to this point. What was more, he did not want to leave yet. He had not even been there for a full hour. (He wanted more time with her).

"I like Healer Umaru," Hermione revealed after a few minutes of unrelenting silence, "I was worried about leaving my Healer in Canada but she's a terrific replacement."

"She seems capable," the wizard conceded. It was as close to a compliment as he would get and she took it as such.

"What was it like for you? The appointment."

"A bit surreal, especially seeing him. I… I wish I had been able to see him like that from the very start."

She dropped her gaze as the remorse over his exclusion from the pregnancy returned but she did not say anything. She had already expressed her thoughts about this and had nothing new to add.

"How are we going to handle the public once he's here?" Harry posed. Hermione rapidly brought her eyes back to his face and saw that he was still watching her stomach. He continued speaking.

"You're giving birth at Mungo's. You're you, I'm _me_ … we can't hide him for very long. Hell, even if we empty the entire floor of the hospital where you'll give birth, I don't think we'd be able to hide him beyond a few weeks. They'll be _clamoring_ for information about him. About us."

He was right, of course, and she had thought about this, of course. Thought about it for months. The attention (and paparazzi) was the second, primary argument for why she should have not come back to Britain; she _knew_ it would be hellish once her motherhood was discovered.

"What do you think we should do?" the witch asked.

"Curse every last one of them." Harry grumbled, still peering at her bump. Hermione frowned as she prepared her answer.

"I think we should be in control. It's true- Bea's birth will get out in the blink of an eye and we'll be hounded. So we should take control of the situation from the start. Draw a line. Protect him." His green eyes lifted to her brown.

"How?"

"Go to the press and make a statement. Announce his birth and request strict privacy, since he'll be a newborn. When we feel ready, we can send a picture of him. Appease them enough so they leave us be," she explained.

"Feed them small bits so they don't bite our hand," he supplied.

"Precisely."

Harry did not give his assent verbally but he nodded after a handful of seconds. Hermione felt relieved and then thought she should strike while the iron was hot for a different topic, while he was (somewhat) amenable and reflective.

"I'd also like to ask you something. Something more, a-about that night in December," she prompted. The dark haired wizard sighed and dropped his head into his hands but he defied her expectations when he did not do or say anything else to deter her. Thus, she plowed onward.

"What were you thinking, coming to my house after I'd broken it off with Troy?"

"It'd been a week," he replied.

"My question still stands." Hermione swiftly countered. Harry's lips thinned and he took a moment before he brought his head up.

"I was thinking that I wanted to see you. To, to see how you were... afterward. I wanted to know that it was actually over with him." There was a beat before her next inquiry came.

"How long had you planned it? Getting him to sleep with that woman?"

"Weeks. For many weeks," he divulged. Angry hurt passed over her face and she turned away from him.

"Do you regret it?" she wondered. The response to this came notably slower than the others but it was just as truthful.

"Yes."

Hermione glanced at him. Harry looked somber again, just like he had the last time they discussed that infamous night during their fire call a week and a half prior. Consequently, it was his second time exposing a tiny part of himself to her, the part he viciously kept secret. She nodded languidly and a calm sadness enveloped her while she listened to the analogue clock tick. His admission was another step forward.

She then witnessed his hand rise and hover timidly near her abdomen and, as she carefully took said hand and placed it softly on her belly, she pondered how far their steps could take them before their child was born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bea makes his debut next chapter, at last!


	9. Chapter 9

Harry saw Hermione, Bea, and Umaru again six days later for the 38th week maternity check up. He was glad to attend another and Hermione, whose anxiety about the impending birth increased each day, seemed a bit more at ease with his presence. The previous week's appointment had been so emotional for him that he'd immediately wanted a drink upon returning to Grimmauld. However, he recalled Hermione's request (demand) that he reduce his alcohol consumption so he resentfully forwent it and did something as an alternative that he had not done in ages: he took a ride on his broom. Harry actually felt calmer after doing so and gazed strangely at the broom when he landed, as though he had forgotten how flying made him feel.

Simon and Darla had been desperate to know how the initial appointment with Harry turned out and called their daughter from work an hour after the check up ended to get a report. Hermione informed them that it had gone fairly well- better than she expected- and mentioned that she and Harry had also discussed how to address the media. The Grangers were relieved for the outcome but not convinced that things would stay civil with Harry (not on his end), so when the witch claimed she was inviting him to the Healer visit the succeeding week, they noted they wanted to attend. She responded with a simple "perhaps" although her instinct told her it was not a good idea, but she had wanted to avoid an argument about it at that time. She finally told her parents three days later that she did not think it was best to reintroduce them to Harry at her next appointment and remarked that she was still trying to establish a baseline with him.

"Then when do you expect us to come face to face with him, Hermione? When you're giving birth?" Darla had posed, sounding incredulous.

"No. Just… just another time! Another day. Please," she pleaded.

She got her wish and her parents avoided Monday's appointment for her 38th week, but they warned her they would not miss her last two appointments, Harry or no Harry. Umaru paid special attention to Hermione's cervix that visit, with Harry waiting awkwardly in the living room during that time, and advised the brunette to watch her stress levels.

"I know you're prone to anxiety. Find small ways to manage it until the birth - walks, non-caffeinated tea, baths, talking to friends, family. Small acts of physical care you can do for yourself," the Healer explained, "And you, Dad - help her with that if you can."

Harry made an odd face but nodded regardless. He knew he did not see Hermione enough and they were not in a good enough place for that to happen but he kept quiet. When Umaru left, he stayed and had a thirty minute conversation with Hermione about names for Bea. Hermine revealed she had five names to which she was drawn and asked Harry if he'd had time to reflect on names he favored. He had, accordingly, but stated he only settled on two. They had a bit of fun talking through the options and eventually settled on Benjamin, which was one of her top three and one he had not considered himself but liked.

"Bea for Benjamin. It still applies," she noted with a pleased smile, patting her belly.

For his middle name, Hermione cautiously asked if Harry wanted it to be his first name but he shrugged and asserted that he did not care. He figured since Benjamin's surname would be Potter that he did not need to claim two names. As a follow up, and with even more caution, she proposed Simon as a second name with the explanation that, besides her father, it was her grandfather's middle name. The dark haired wizard agreed ("Sure") and she flashed a pretty smile, expressing her gratitude and excited to be able to share her son's identity with her parents.

During their fire call later that week on Thursday, Hermione steered conversation with Harry back into choppy waters. She had developed a pattern of interspersing their normal, promising interactions with difficult interactions based on difficult topics, which currently revolved around "that night": the night they broke. She was glad for the moments they had when things were mildly pleasant but she was not going to let him get away with thinking they could gloss over or dismiss the numerous grievances she had. Harry had to confront and admit to them if he wanted her - them - to be able to move beyond them.

Like always, he was uncomfortable and somewhat disgruntled to breach this subject but he participated nevertheless. (Hermione felt triumph every time he did). She asked him what he had hoped would happen had she not unearthed his betrayal and she went into more detail about what was behind her decision to leave. She also took them into what their feelings were right after she discovered the truth.

"Disgust. Pure disgust. And complete despair," she attested, peering at him seriously. Harry shifted, avoiding her eyes and thinking of how to answer. It took him a bit of time.

"Nothing but shock. Shock you found out, shock you attacked me, and shock that you're a Legilimens. I had _no_ idea," he mumbled, frowning. There was another pause.

"I haven't used that ability since that night."

Harry felt an inclination to bring his gaze up but dodged it. He wanted to know how and when she acquired that skill but refrained from asking that, too. After a third bout of silence, this one longer than the others, he spoke first.

"When I found out you were gone, when I went to your parents and they gave me your letter… I felt like the world just ended. It was a bit like when… w-when Sirius fell through the Veil. I didn't know how to handle it."

Hermione's mouth fell halfway open at the mention of Sirius. Harry had not spoken of his godfather to anyone in an exceedingly long time. His admission, which had been given _freely_ , was a surprising testament to _his_ pain; it was another unprotected glimpse into his emotional state beyond the truculence and surliness. She latched onto and tucked it away like the other infinitesimal morsels he had given her since she started confronting him because they all mattered.

"Well... that's rather how I felt in the days before I chose to leave. So I understand the intensity of it." Hermione replied in a measured tone. She was careful to not console him yet did not want to be contemptuous either.

Harry huffed before rubbing a hand down his face. Being forced to discuss their turbulent history (that had mostly been his doing) was his least favorite part of speaking to Hermione but he was getting used to it. He disliked it, surely, but he knew that doing so was necessary for her to maintain their re-connection and he did _not_ want to risk that. The wizard did not want to return to life without her, especially because now life included more than just her.

* * *

Hermione _loathed_ wizarding communication with a capital L.

Fire calls were pointless if no one was home, owls were too slow for urgent matters, Apparition only worked if one's location was known, and Patroni were impossible if you were too fearful to think of happy memories. Magical methods were terribly inconvenient and slow, and that was everything she did not need at the moment, a moment of the utmost importance.

Hermione breathed in and out quickly, knowing the shallow breaths were not likely to help but feeling helpless, and hurriedly thought of what to do to rectify the situation. She was having contractions ( _real_ contractions!) and her water had broken, and she was having trouble getting a hold of Harry _and_ Ron. They did not seem to be at home. And if that was not foreboding enough, she was early! Or rather, Bea was early.

She was in labor but had eight days to go until the due date.

Bea was going to be born eight days early.

It was freaking Hermione out even more. While she knew that he was still considered full term if born at 39 weeks instead of 40, eight days seemed like a drastic difference. What if he needed that extra week to develop completely, to put on any last touches? What if something was wrong now or something went wrong after his arrival? What if she had gotten used to September 16th as his birthday and not September eighth?! (Because she had. Her baby's birthday so close to hers; it would have been lovely).

The brunette had thought she was just experiencing more Braxton Hicks earlier but when they persisted and grew stronger, she realized (with panic) they were true contractions. Hermione called her mother and father right afterward with the news and they assured her they would leave work immediately in order to get home as quickly as possible. They were liable to arrive within the next few minutes, in fact, but for now she was alone. She was alone at the start of labor and could not contact her best friend or baby's father.

Feeling her desperation and anxiety reach horrifying heights with each passing second, she latched onto a far fetched solution and cried out for Kreacher. She thought if there was even a minuscule chance that he would answer and help her reach Harry, she had to take it. Consequently, Hermione was dumbfounded when the old elf appeared in the sitting room seconds later, gazing at her expectantly.

"Kreacher!" she exclaimed, peering at him with a gaping mouth. He had actually come. It actually worked!

"Miss called?" he croaked.

"Er, y-yes. Yes! I desperately need your help! I'm going to have the baby and I can't get Harry! He didn't answer my fire calls and I can't send him my Patronus. I need you to contact him, Kreacher. If he's not at home, you have to reach him and tell him I'm in labor. Make him go to St. Mungo's! After you find Harry, find Ron and tell him the same, please."

Kreacher nodded with determination and then said:

"Kreacher will get Master and tell him to go to the wizarding hospital. Kreacher will tell Master that Miss is having their half blood babe! Kreacher will also inform the ginger."

The brunette pursed her lips at the classification of Bea, knowing that Kreacher defaulted to Harry's blood status and viewed his child the same way since _she_ was Muggleborn. She thanked the elf instead of dwelling on it and he gave a hasty bow before quickly Disapparating. Now that Harry was taken care of, Hermione focused more on breathing correctly and enduring the contractions. She used her wand to Summon her hospital bag (a custom of Muggles she was stubbornly incorporating) and the device Umaru had supplied upon first meeting her. The device alerted St. Mungo's that a mother was in labor in addition to being a transport; when she was ready, she simply had to tap the device with her wand and say the hospital's name.

Crookshanks sensed that his owner was distressed so he followed her every step, alternating between meowing in concern and purring and rubbing against her. His presence helped Hermione while she waited for Darla and Simon and kept her from feeling totally deserted.

"You're such a good boy, Crooks," she alerted with tears in her eyes. (Tears of appreciation and anxiety).

When the Grangers arrived home, they frantically burst inside and found their daughter walking in circles in the kitchen. She was taking drastic breaths in and out and had both hands planted on her stomach, her cat trotting obediently along.

"Bunny!" Jean exclaimed, grabbing her in a firm embrace.

"Oh, Mum!," Hermione stated, letting her tears finally fall, "It hurts! And I-I'm scared!"

"I know it does, sweet, and I know how scary it feels."

"We're here now and we'll be with you, love. And you'll get to meet your son soon! Think about Benjamin." Simon added. He kissed Hermione's forehead and had his arms wrapped around both women. She pulled back and gave him a timid smile at the reminder of seeing her baby.

"We need to go, then. Simon, get her bag -" Darla instructed.

"I already have it," the Muggleborn interjected, nodding to the table. Mr. Granger went to grab it along with the hospital device and her wand.

"Where's Harry?"

"I-I'm not sure. He wasn't at home," Her father frowned heavily at the revelation, "But I told his elf to find him and send him to Mungo's."

"Will he even show up?" Simon inquired through clenched teeth. Hermione nodded, looking worried.

"Kreacher works quickly. Requests are elves' priority, and he knows it's urgent," she stated.

"Well that's that. Let's get you to the hospital." Mrs. Granger ordered. She was not the least bit intimidated by traveling by magical means or that concerned about the whereabouts of her grandson's father. All she currently cared about was Hermione.

Harry's throat felt unbearably dry as he stalked through the hospital's floor, eyes darting all around. Her room should be five doors down the hallway- only five.

Kreacher had found him fifteen minutes after being sent off by Hermione, and the news his elf delivered evoked emotions in Harry he had never truly felt before. She was having the(ir) _baby_! Benji was coming! And he was early! Harry did not know how to feel but he felt a unique kind of desperation, one that only dissipated once he reached the door to Hermione's room at Mungo's. He did not remember interacting with the Welcoming Witch (and the subsequent stunned stares of _everyone_ present on the first level) but he had gotten to her room somehow.

In his haste, the wizard did not bother to knock and walked inside the domain without invitation, effortlessly drawing the attention of the four people in the room.

" _Harry_." Hermione said on an exhale. Simon immediately tensed and balled his fists, his face reddening while his wife froze and narrowed her eyes, but Harry did not appear to take notice of them. He swallowed and marched to the foot of the bed she was in since her parents were on one side and the Healer on the other.

"How long have you been here?" he wondered, looking her over. Hermione was already dressed in the hospital's gown.

"Not long," she told him, "I'm glad you got here rather fast." Harry nodded and glanced at the other occupants, his expression becoming tight when he saw how Simon was watching him.

"Harry." Darla greeted in a brisk tone.

"Darla," he mumbled. She frowned, preferring he call her Mrs. Granger but leaving it be. Mr. Granger, on the other hand, had no salutation for Harry and merely glowered at him, an expression the younger man mirrored before Hermione regained his attention.

"This is Healer Covington. She'll be joined by two more when it's time for the birth," she notified.

"M-Mr. Potter." Covington acknowledged, bowing the top half of her body. She knew Harry was the father because she'd reviewed much of Hermione's chart but it was still disconcerting to have him here as proof.

Consequently, he gave a jerk of the head to the witch, since it could barely be considered a nod, then posed:

"What about Umaru?"

"She's here today but working with other patients. She'll drop in when she has bits of free ti- _aaaah_!" the brunette relayed before her face bunched and she seized the bedding between her fingers.

"What is it?!" Harry asked. His brow furrowed and he leaned forward.

"They're contractions," growled Simon, finishing the sentence with "you bastard _"_ in his head. Covington nodded in affirmation and returned to her tasks while Darla rubbed Hermione's arm.

"Yes," confirmed Hermione, suddenly sounding winded. Her fingers relaxed their grip.

"Can't you give her a pain potion?" Harry half demanded, peering at the Healer.

"We can administer it whenever the mother wants." Covington mentioned.

"I want to wait until they are a little closer together." Hermione supplemented. Harry frowned and pondered why she would not stop the pain as soon as possible but he did not vocally question her choice.

When Ron made it to St. Mungo's and into the appropriate room, he had unusually mused hair and a vigilant countenance.

"I'm sorry, Hermione! I was with Lavender! I didn't - it was so -," he spewed, both hands on his head, "Nevermind. How are you?"

The red head took a few steps before stopping in his tracks and staring at Harry. The other man set his jaw and glared in response. In the rush to reach Hermione, Ron had not considered the dark haired wizard at all so it was jarring to see him now. It was an expectation he had forgotten about. The once Golden Trio had not been together in a space in almost two years.

"Why is _he_ here?" Harry inquired in a rough voice. At this, Ron's stance became defensive and he glared back. Hermione, as well, gave Harry an affronted look.

"You shouldn't have to ask me that," she snapped.

"Can't he wait and visit until _after_ the baby's born? Like everyone else?" he proposed, looking at her irritably.

"Normally, no more than three visitors are allowed in a room during the labor process but I think we can make an exception until it's time to give birth," offered Covington, glancing between the young people and hoping to help cushion the rising conflict.

"Yes! I want him here! And if you don't like it, Harry, well... _you_ can leave the room!" the mother to be asserted.

Simon smirked openly at this while Ron crossed his arms and challenged his former best friend with an eyebrow raise. Knowing he had no allies and feeling very out of place, Harry displayed an awful scowl before choosing a chair that was far apart from the others and throwing himself in it. Hermione watched him in half annoyance and half concern but he was no longer meeting anyone's gaze.

"Hello, Ronald." Darla remarked, giving the pureblood a hug.

"Thank you for coming, son." Simon kindly noted.

"Of course. Nothing could keep me away." Ron attested.

The brunette saw Harry hunch further in his chair and physically turn away from the group. Despite her aggravation at his audacity, she felt for him. Their words likely made him feel more like the odd man out which, in turn, made him more unpleasant because he felt hurt, and she had long learned that he lashed out when hurt. She sighed inaudibly and then felt her mother gently turn her chin so they could look at one another. (Her father was speaking to Ron).

"Don't worry yourself over him too much. He's still here, isn't he?," Mrs. Granger quietly advised. Hermione nodded, "Remember what your dad said at home: think about Benjamin. Harry will be fine."

Harry kept mostly to himself in his chair during the time the quartet stayed in the room with Hermione. He vacillated between glaring at the Grangers and Ron and gazing dourly at the floor; when he did speak, it was hardly ever to those three and it was to Darla in _those_ rare instances. Hermione conceded to take the pain potion one hour after the red head arrived and then, another hour and a half later, Covington enthusiastically announced that she was dilated enough to deliver.

"Such a quick labor! Your little prince must be dying to get out!" the Healer said to a baffled Hermione. Harry was near her feet again at the news, appearing anxious for the first time.

"I'd say! He's a week early!" laughed Darla, clasping her hands together in happiness.

Ron had to wait outside in the hallway during the birth and was replaced by a male and female Healer. However, as the room was at the very end of the hospital floor (an intentional choice for more privacy), there was little foot traffic. He saw a fourth Healer - a black woman who was actually Umaru - go inside 15 minutes after he left but his wait was uninterrupted aside from that. He could not hear anything and sat on pins and needles until someone came to fetch him.

The pureblood had been outside for practically 60 minutes when the door opened once more. He sat up straight, on full alert, and saw Harry walk out. Ron was a tad confused and looked at the other man, noticing that he seemed to be in a daze.

"He's here," Harry revealed in a low voice, his Adam's apple bobbing, "He's here. He's really here." He moved to the opposite side of the door of where Ron sat.

The red head let out a big sigh of relief and nodded multiple times. There was a beat of silence.

"They sent me outside while they clear everything away. Hermione and Benji are both okay," continued Harry.

"Benji." Ron repeated slowly. The dark haired wizard finally peered at him, his countenance humorless.

"Yeah. Didn't you know his name?"

"Yes: Benjamin Simon. She told me last week. I just didn't know that was gonna be his nickname."

Harry shrugged halfheartedly and dropped his eyes again. Ron said the name in his head for a second time and grinned softly. There was another period of quiet.

"She cried. When she held him," Harry disclosed, kicking at the floor, "Sodding hell, he's small. I've haven't seen a newborn in person before."

The pureblood was observing Harry in surprise and contemplation. He could not remember the last time he had spoken to his old friend without anger or resentment on either side. It was rendering him speechless. Ron wondered if Harry was merely thinking aloud or if he was grasping at straws because he had no one else to whom he could express these thoughts.

Ron could not think of an appropriate reply before the door swung outward and Umaru exited with the male Healer.

"You can go back inside, Mr. Potter, and be with your son! We're all done for now." Umaru shared with a large smile. Harry nodded then uttered:

"Thanks."

"Congratulations, again! He's lovely."

The pair of Healers walked away but Harry made no move to enter the room.

"You can go. You haven't seen him," he mumbled to Ron. The red head was startled enough that his mouth dropped open. _What_? Conversely, he attempted to compose himself before the other man got defensive or changed his mind.

"Erm, thank you," Ron commented, scrambling to get to his feet. He cleared his throat, "Thanks… Harry."

Harry emitted a sound resembling a grunt and buried his hands in his pockets, his green orbs studying the floor once more. He did not notice Ron's last glance before disappearing into the room.

The Grangers, the remaining two Healers, and Ron emerged into the hallway a quarter of an hour later and found Benji's father leaned against the wall, still brooding. Their presence captured Harry's attention.

"I, er, I'm taking them to the tearoom for food," Ron relayed, "Hermione, she… she asked for you to go back inside."

Harry considered that she had requested privacy, as well, but saw no point in getting confirmation. Instead, he nodded and looked them all over.

"He's brilliant. Benji's brilliant." Ron professed as the Healers nodded in agreement with bright smiles.

"He is," the bespectacled man muttered.

"We'll be at least half an hour," Darla mentioned, peering at him, "You three can start to bond."

Harry nodded once more and recalled her reaction to Benjamin. She had fallen in love with her grandson instantaneously and cried over him just like Hermione, even squeezing Harry's shoulder in pure joy the first minutes after the baby had entered the world. Her husband had not conveyed his happiness to Harry in nearly the same way since he had essentially ignored him, but he had given him one sharp nod of approval and nothing more. Even now, Simon stared at him blankly before the quintet wandered off.

Harry grimaced then entered the room and Hermione looked up at the sound of the door.

"Hey," he said, taking in her form.

She seemed more put together now and he cataloged the differences. Her skin was dewy and no longer covered in sweat, her hair was (mostly) gathered in a pile on top of her head instead of half of it being unraveled and entangled, and she was sitting up swaddling a bundle in both arms instead of leaned back with her legs wide open. Hermione was also quiet instead of grunting and panting while being repeatedly instructed to push by the Healers and her mother. And while the Muggleborn still appeared exceptionally tired, she had a blissful look on her face that was centered on the infant she held.

Hermione turned her beam on Harry but it faltered slightly when she observed his demeanor. He looked hesitant and subdued, the latter of which he had been since Benjamin made his initial, shrill cries. She had not had much of a chance to talk to him once their son came out due to all of the commotion and overwhelming emotion that engulfed her, but she had discerned this. Additionally, she believed that he had only had the opportunity to hold Benji once… otherwise, he had hovered by her side while _she_ cradled the newborn.

Well they were alone now and she wanted to rectify that. And she wanted to speak.

"Come here," Hermione beckoned in a gentle tone, shifting the infant, "You can hold him properly now."

Harry licked his lips and walked stiffly to the bed, pulling a chair close to her left side. Hermione meticulously transferred the sleeping baby to him and he held his breath as he accepted their son. Benji, who had fallen asleep five minutes prior after so much activity and all the novel stimuli, moved a bit in his blanket cocoon but did not wake. Harry stood stock still for a handful of moments before sinking slowly into the chair, his eyes stuck on the person in his arms. He fixed Benji's hat, a tiny white thing with blue, moving clouds on it. (He, in fact, had been the one to put it on the infant's head at the Healer's encouragement.

This all felt surreal to the dark haired wizard. This itty human was his - half of him was his. He had made a _baby_ with Hermione, and it seemed all the more stupefying because he had only known about Benji for five weeks. And suddenly he was here, out of the womb, real, and surprisingly red.

Harry Potter: the Boy Who Lived, Basilisk slayer, godson of a falsely convicted criminal, Triwizard champion, ender of dark lords and, now, father. All at the tender age of 20.

"So what do you think?" Hermione prompted. He peered at her, jerked from his thoughts.

"What do I think?," he parroted, one eyebrow raised, "Of the baby?"

She nodded, her lips formed in a smile, and Harry laughed. He gave an authentic laugh and it stilled her. The witch could not remember the last time she heard Harry laugh freely, heard him laugh without derision or darkness tainting it.

"I think he looks like a Benjamin," he answered, flashing half a smile at the sleeping infant.

It was silent as Hermione watched father and son and contemplated where to begin and what to address.

"I felt panicked when I went into labor and couldn't reach you at Grimmauld. Kreacher didn't even answer my fire calls, which makes me realize he likely wasn't there either. On an errand for you, perhaps," she pointed out, resettling herself. Harry looked up at her, "But then I called for him and he came. I was shocked. I just felt so helpless... I _hoped_ anything would work but didn't think it would."

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. Hermione shook her head, not needing an apology.

"Why did Kreacher answer me, Harry?"

"Because I told him to. Once I found out you were pregnant - after our first fire call - I ordered him to answer to your calls."

"Oh, I see. That's… helpful," she murmured. There were implications to this but Hermione cast them aside for the moment.

The pair chatted about the birthing experience and their perception of it as they gazed at Benji in Harry's arms, and Hermione made note of how odd everything had been: pushing something so large out of a space so small, her first try at breastfeeding and the sensation of it, and being able to physically touch and see the soul that had taken residence in her body for almost a year.

"He was worth all of it, though. Every pain, every frustration, every fear of the last nine months. I'd do it all again," she asserted, tears breaching her ducts.

Harry returned the baby to her then, sensing she wanted to hold him again. Incidentally, Benji started to rouse and was crying in less than two minutes. His father gazed at him, fascinated in a different way now that he was awake, while his mother attempted to figure out how to soothe him. Hermione thought to feed him after a few minutes of no success in rocking or reswadling him and this hypothesis proved fruitful. After a bit of struggle, Benji latched onto her right breast and quieted, sucking greedily at his source of sustenance. She sighed in contentment and looked at him with pure adoration in her eyes but _his_ eyes were drawn to Harry, who stood by Hermione's left shoulder and continued to marvel at the newborn.

"He's watching me," the young man pointed out.

"He's getting familiar with your face," she chuckled before she addressed Benji, "There are so many new people and things to see, aren't there, sweetheart? It's so different from Mummy's womb!"

Harry peered at her with a faint smile at hearing her describe herself as such (this was all _astoundingly_ surreal) and, in the next instant, Covington had come back into the room.

"Look at you three! Morgana bless you," the Healer grinned, carrying a clipboard, "And I see he's taken quickly to the teat! That's wonderful." Hermione gave a proud smile.

"I'm just here now to get the name of your little prince for his birth certificate! It'll go straight to the Ministry," reported Covington. Hermione glanced at Harry but words were already spilling off his tongue.

"Benjamin Simon. First and middle," he declared.

"What strong names! A fine choice," She wrote down the information, "And surname?"

At this, the Muggleborn jumped in and verbalized something before Harry could respond once more.

"Erm! Actually, we!… we are not sure yet, um, about that. It's still in… still in discussion," she bashfully explained. Harry whipped his head to gawk at her, alarmed, while Covington looked at her in surprise as well.

"Oh!," the Healer noted, blinking, "Oh. That's… I-I see."

" _What_?" Harry bit out.

"How long can we go without designating a surname?" Hermione questioned, focusing on Benji and intentionally avoiding Harry's mounting outrage.

"Well… the Ministry allows one fortnight. After that, a surname must be given." Covington shared.

"A fortnight- okay. Thank you."

"I'll just take my leave and give you two some time…. I'll send over what I have and, whenever you choose the surname, we'll amend it. Ring for me if you need anything."

The Healer quickly left the two young people and Harry wasted no time in rounding on Hermione.

"What the hell, Hermione?! What in the bloody _hell_?" the dark haired wizard hissed. Hermione took in breaths and tried to combat sniffles that were already intent on escaping. As difficult as this conversation was going to be, she did not want a fight - not after the jubilation of welcoming her son into the world. She cursed herself for her cowardice, for not vocalizing her reservations regarding Benji's surname before now.

"We're not married, Harry," she stated, sounding weary.

"So?! That means my child isn't allowed to have the name Potter?"

"It's not that -"

"Then what is it?!" he snapped.

"Please don't get loud. We don't want to upset Benji." Hermione pleaded.

"Hermione -"

"We never discussed his surname. When we were choosing names, we didn't touch upon last names."

"Because it's assumed a baby will have their father's name! It's custom!" Harry insisted.

"Not everyone has their father's name. _Plenty_ of people don't!" she countered. She was keeping her voice as level as she could in the hopes that he would imitate her.

"If you had a problem with giving him my name, why didn't you bring it up before?!"

The brunette dropped her head, contrition flooding her.

"Because you wanted more control over me and my access to Benji," he sourly predicted when she remained quiet.

" _No_. No, Harry. It's because I wasn't brave enough, like I wasn't brave enough to tell you about the pregnancy months ago," she admitted.

"Yeah. I get fucked _two_ times. You tell me I have a kid weeks before he's due and now you won't let me continue my family line by giving him my name," He scoffed and shook his head, his hands clenched, "Benjamin Simon _Granger_. No one will be able to tell that he's mine! You're erasing me!"

"I am _not_ erasing you. I didn't say I refuse for him to be a Potter; I'm not against it! It's not that black and white! I just -"

Hermione was interrupted by the baby starting to fuss. She aggressively wiped away a couple errant tears that had fallen down her cheeks and made shushing noises. She wondered if he could sense their elevated distress levels as she readjusted him and tried to get him to continue suckling.

"You need to explain to me what you're thinking." Harry commanded. His voice, however, had dropped in volume and he was gazing at Benji with a frown, perhaps at the infant being disturbed or perhaps at the surname development. Perhaps both.

"I know that Benji is your child. It's never been my desire to take that from you, despite some of my decisions," the witch commenced as Benji settled again, "But I also don't want to attach him to you _if_ your toxicity persists, if this version of you from the past two years wins out. I don't want him to walk around as a Potter under the reputation you have now. I don't want him to have a tarnished perception of his father based on _your_ actions, and his surname would be a constant reminder of that."

Harry was speechless. He stared at her as indignation, shame, and confusion warred within him but her eyes were on the baby. He did not know what to say.

"Harry, his surname depends on you. _All_ of this depends on you. Your access to Benji, as you said earlier, depends on you. Your role in his life depends on you. Your relationship with him depends on you. The only way you will be kept from all of that is if you don't change. I already told you that I cannot have you treat him how you treated me after the war and I _mean_ it. I will shield him from that. From you," Hermione extrapolated, "I don't want to but I will without hesitation. I'd rather you be here for him than not. I'd hate to have to tell him one day that his father was someone I used to love but had to remove from our lives because he became something ugly."

"Don't say that," he directed, turning away from her. Befuddled, he'd listened to all of her reasoning for not automatically listing Benji as a Potter, but her last sentence is what jolted him.

"Don't say what?"

"Someone you used to, to love."

"Why not? It's the truth!," she challenged. She sounded defiant and was peering at him, "I wouldn't have endured everything otherwise! I wouldn't have the baby of someone I didn't love."

Harry grit his teeth. The reminder of Hermione's love was too much in contrast to how he had acted and what he had done to her the past two years. (He had done enough that she was reluctant to give their child his surname, for God's sake)! He hated the feeling.

"Then maybe you shouldn't have!" he blurted out.

"Shouldn't have what? Had Benji?"

"Loved me!"

Hermione appeared shocked right as Benji wriggled away from her breast and made dissatisfied noises. (He was done eating, it seemed). She reflected as she slowly moved him in order to burp him.

"I'll do it." Harry gruffly revealed. He stepped up and held his arms out for the infant, refusing to look at her. She handed him to his father and the dark haired wizard reclaimed the chair, fitting Benji against his left shoulder and gently tapping his back like Umaru had shown him.

"You can't turn off feelings at a whim. And I had seven _years'_ worth thanks to Hogwarts," the brunette noted after an extended pause, "Why do you think it was so hard for me to give up on you after the war, once you pulled away? I wasn't willing to let go of someone who meant so much to me."

"You wouldn't have been hurt if you had," he offered, sounding bitter.

"Yes. And I also wouldn't have my son," Harry glanced at her. She was watching Benji, "I love him so much already. I wasn't anticipating how powerful it would be."

Harry nodded absently. It was quiet the entire time he coaxed burps out of the infant. They did this so often in their communication since Hermione's return: argue amidst rising anger or pain and then, with one unexpected sentence from one of them, instantly cool. Cool and deliberate.

"So... two weeks is enough time for change? It's enough time for you to feel comfortable naming him Potter?" Harry asked in a resigned tone once he finished with Benji. The newborn was making involuntary facial expressions and half of Harry's mouth ticked up in amusement.

"It's enough to show me that you're committed to change, for his sake," Hermione clarified, "I've already seen a few differences since I've been back. I… I have faith in you, Harry, and I _do_ want him to be a Potter. For the record. "

The black haired wizard swallowed, thinking of his family, of his legacy. What would his parents think of the baby he was holding? What would they think of how he'd functioned since winning the war? They would be devastated with his actions, undoubtedly, and if it ached to consider that then it hurt even more to consider his son growing up to be devastated, too.

"I can't…," He scrubbed a hand down his face, a behavior that Hermione knew indicated he was overwhelmed, "I keep thinking that I'm the same age as my parents when they had me. I-I had a kid at 20, like them, unexpected, like them. And they died a year later."

She inhaled sharply, gripping the bedding. His emotional state suddenly became clearer to her. Is that what he feared, that he would die like James and Lily? Die when his son was still a baby? Hermione did her best to not cry as she stared at Harry. Is this why he had been subdued? Because he had been thinking of his parents? Did he react so strongly to the surname issue because he thought he might _die_? Oh, Harry.

"They also had a madman after them - and _you_ \- at the height of a war. Their circumstances were unfair and _tragic_ but they are not the same as yours." Hermione assured.

"I dunno. I think I've got the tragic bit down… much of it self inflicted since the madman is gone," he mused. His dark humor was not embraced and she merely looked at him, her face marred with sadness and resolve.

"So change that. I told you - it all depends on _you_. It doesn't have to be tragic. _I_ have faith. Benji should give you faith. You once had faith."

Harry returned her steady gaze for a long while, not breaking eye contact. When he finally did, his visual attention returned to their child.

"It's not easy," he mumbled.

"I know," she softly conceded.

The freshly branded parents and newborn were together for 45 minutes before Covington returned with news that Hermione had new visitors: Weasleys. The rest of the family (minus Charlie and Percy) was in the tearoom with Ron, Simon and Darla, just buzzing to see baby and mother. The Muggleborn thanked the Healer and alerted her that she would call when she was ready to receive them.

"I think I should go." Harry ventured when they were alone once more. Benji had been transferred back to Hermione minutes previously.

"What?" she uttered, peering at him in surprise. He stood and shook his head.

"It was hard enough for you with me here with your parents and Ron. I see no good in me being here with everyone else."

She knew he was right. It would be too arduous, too tense, and he would become too ill-tempered. He had not spoken to the Weasleys in so long; there might be a scene.

"When will you come back?" was her question. She sounded somewhat dubious and Harry's heart throbbed dully at her skepticism. He studied her. He was emotionally drained and needed to be alone to sort his brain out but a part of him was indisputably disappointed he was leaving.

"Tomorrow morning. First thing," he responded. She nodded, dropping her gaze and rocking the baby.

Harry paused for a second before leaning over her and placing a careful kiss on Benji's forehead. When he pulled back, he said:

"Thank you."

"For?" Hermione prompted with a furrowed brow.

"Him."

Her face softened and it made his breath catch. He hesitated for a few moments before moving forward again but this time to her. He caressed her left cheek with his thumb while he stared somberly into her brown eyes, and when _her_ breath caught and her pulse quickened, he muttered a goodbye before exiting the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't expect Benji's debut to take up the whole chapter but I have no regrets. It feels right.
> 
> One or two chapters left for this story, folks. (It depends on how long the rest of the scenes for this plot turn out to be).


	10. Chapter 10

Harry kept to his word and got to the hospital the following day 20 minutes after Hermione and Benji had awakened. The baby was in a relaxed state when his father arrived and Hermione explained that her (their) sleep schedule had been a tangled mess with intervals of slumber instead of consecutive slumber. She added that she knew this would be the new normal for many months and was not looking forward to it. Harry took Benji from her with a quick smile and prepared to settle in for the day, asking when her parents were arriving. The witch revealed they were not coming, a fact that pleased him but he did not vocalize, and shared that they had to work today in order to rearrange things at their practice so they could have the succeeding week off. Simon and Darla had planned to take a seven day leave to be at home with their daughter but since Benjamin was born a week early, they now had to execute this plan a week early, too.

"They'll be here tomorrow when we're released to go home," she noted.

Hermione also informed Harry of the visitors she was meant to receive that day: Ron, Ginny, Neville and Luna, as the latter two had not visited the previous day. She was tentative in delivering the news but became stern when his vexation showed.

"I told you for a reason, so you would know and could decide if you wanted to be here or not," she mentioned, "I had a _baby_ , for goodness' sake, and they're my friends. Are they simply not supposed to see me?"

"I didn't say that," he quickly retorted, gently handling his son.

"Well… all right, then. Ron will be here at ten o'clock."

Benji had been asleep for 30 minutes when the red head arrived. Hermione welcomed him warmly whereas Harry gave him a stiff nod then hid his face behind the _Prophet_. Ron was somewhat surprised to see the dark haired wizard and the look he gave Hermione conveyed such; she, in turn, nodded and gave him a sanguine smile. Ron reported that his mother was completely taken with the newborn and rapidly finishing a blanket for him, a blanket she thought she'd had the next seven days to complete. He was careful in speaking of his family because he was overly aware of Harry's presence but, after half an hour of silence from the other man, he stopped monitoring himself.

Ginny and Luna arrived at a quarter past 11AM and this is when the first, true tense exchange happened. Only three people at a time were allowed in the room with mother and baby so Ron temporarily gave up his spot for his sister and friend, but he witnessed the shaky interaction before he exited the room. Harry stilled when the blonde and red head walked inside and all three stared at one another for a long period. Ginny became noticeably rigid while a sad expression overtook Luna's countenance, and green eyes darted between the two women as he recalled his last interactions with them that seemed like decades ago. Telling Luna she needed to get it through her clouded head that he did not want to see her or anyone else and did not want to hear her nonsense ideas about what was wrong with him. Telling Ginny to leave him _alone_ and that what they had had not been real, had been frivolous, yet he regretted that he had not at least gotten a shag out of her before it ended. Dread filled him at the sight of them while tears of fury filled Ginny's eyes, and he did his best to fade into the shadows of the room.

In the end, Harry could only tolerate being in the room with the witches for less than 15 minutes. He muttered to Hermione that he would be back later then he marched out of the room with his hands in his pockets without a backward glance.

"How has it been with Harry?" Luna asked in a melancholic tone, something that was quite unusual for her. Her roommate scoffed and shook her head.

"Actually, it's been mostly good… when we're alone, that is. He refuses to speak to my dad but he will talk to Mum a bit, and he can be in the same room as Ron now without much issue. But anyone beyond that is too much for him at this point."

"I can imagine."

"It's too much for us, too," Ginny remarked, her arms crossed, "It's been two years but it seems impossible that he's changed at all. I know you say he has, in some sense, but all I saw was the prick who said awful things to me and all his friends when he ran us off." She swiped at a couple tears that fell and Luna put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"He's still carrying so much pain. It's going to take time, for him and all of us," the blonde predicted, "But now we're connected through Benjamin."

"Yes," Hermione said as she wiped tears off her own cheeks, "And he really does seem to care about Benji, which is all I want."

"I'm sure it's not _all_ you want, but it's the most important part."

The brunette smiled at Luna's wisdom and insight. Accordingly, Benji awoke not a minute later wailing for his mother's milk, much to the delight of the younger women, especially Luna.

When Harry returned a little after 1PM, Hermione had eaten lunch, Ginny was gone, Ron was back in the room, and the baby was asleep once more. He still felt odd with Luna there as he reclaimed his spot but it was not as stifling as it had been with her and Ginny, likely made easier due to her more placid nature. Hermione asked Harry where he had gone and, in a tight voice, he responded that he ran an errand and got lunch before he descended into silence once more. Ron appeared suspicious at the errand revelation but knew better than to comment on it.

When Luna decided it was her time to leave some 30 minutes after Harry's return, she surprised them all by bidding the dark haired wizard adieu along with everyone else.

"Goodbye, Harry. It was quite nice to see you again; I suspect it will happen more in the future. You and Hermione have a wonderful baby."

Stunned, he had no response and merely stared at the blonde while she promised to visit Hermione during the new week and then left the hospital. Neville was the next visitor to come around 2PM and Harry found that his nerves were being pushed further with each old friend that showed up, as he had predicted. He wanted to leave the room again, badly, but forced himself to stay put and stay apart as he had been doing, and he was grateful when Neville did not acknowledge him beyond looking at him gravely for a handful of seconds. It was upsetting and awkward enough being in the same room with people (old loved ones) from his past, one after another, so the last thing Harry needed was to have to interact with them.

As it were, Hermione began to feel distinctly tired an hour after Neville arrived. She tried to be engaged but her drowsiness was evident, so Neville announced he would leave and waved off her apologies. He and Ron left the hospital without complaint and she fell into a near immediate nap while Harry, happy that everyone had (finally) gone, took care of Benji as she slumbered. The infant himself fell asleep an hour after his mother and he did so nestled against his father's chest, whom, incidentally, also dozed off in his chair with a hand securely on Benji's back. Healer Covington walked in on the sight of the little, sleeping family and smiled fondly at the trio before making her retreat. She would return to check on Hermione in an hour or two and delay her meal delivery until she was awake….

There was a final, unexpected visitor in Lavender that day who was escorted by Ron. She came after Hermione had eaten and was on the tail end of feeding Benji, and she came with a gift and some hesitancy, as though she were unsure if her presence was wanted. Conversely, Ron had assured her it would be fine and her doubt started to melt when she saw that Hermione appeared to be genuinely glad to see her.

"It's been so _long_!" the brunette mentioned, smiling at the other woman as they exchanged hugs.

"It has. I mean, you're a _mother_ now!," Lavender pointed out. She then faced the bespectacled wizard and curbed most of her budding cheerfulness, "Hello Harry."

"Hi, Lavender," he replied in a measured voice after a pause, having momentarily stopped changing Benji into a fresh onesie. Harry had no animosity or annoyance toward his former classmate and he had not seen her since the trials at the Ministry following the Battle of Hogwarts. The woman had been attacked by Greyback, a trauma that he knew would probably linger for decades, and he saw no reason to make her more uncomfortable than she already was in her daily life.

"So, that's Benjamin?" she asked rhetorically, smiling shyly at Harry then the infant. He swiftly nodded and finished dressing Benji in order to pass him back to Hermione so she could show him off.

Visiting hours ended at 7PM so Lavender only stayed for 45 minutes but it was the perfect amount of time. The enthusiasm she had been known for during school was present yet somewhat muted, accompanied by a layer of nervousness. Strangely, Harry was the most relaxed he had been all day in regard to visitors while she was there. He persisted in saying little or nothing at all but he felt comfortable enough to walk around and be a part of the environment instead of hiding in it. He did not feel like he had to fade into the background nor was there a raging desire to, both of which had been the case with the others. Benji was an amenable little host during her stay and showed no opposition when she held him for a bit, perhaps at ease because he was both fed and rested.

Ron kissed Hermione's forehead (which caused Harry to ball his fists) before he and Lavender grasped hands and took their leave, requesting that his best friend contact him when she wanted him to make his first visit upon her return home. Lavender waved merrily and was heard commenting on how cute Benji was as she walked out with her boyfriend.

"There were so many visitors today, weren't there, sweetheart? And they all came for you," sighed Hermione, when it was at last the three of them. She nuzzled her child.

"It was tiring." Harry mumbled. He used both hands to rake through his hair.

"It _was_ , actually. For all of us," she chuckled, "But I was happy to see everyone." He did not respond. Instead, he studied her and realized that he had been at the hospital for nearly 12 hours. When would she expect, or want, him to leave?

"Should I stay? Overnight?" he asked slowly.

The Muggleborn looked at him. She thought of the prior night and waking every couple hours to feed and care for Benji amidst her own post-birth exhaustion. Her parents had stayed as late as they dared yesterday but she had been on her own (Healers aside) past 10PM. While it may not have seemed like she and Harry were in a good enough place to spend the night together in any capacity, this was about their newborn, not them. He was offering and it would help him bond with Benji, and she preferred to have someone with them tonight if she could.

"Yes. It would be helpful," Hermione notified, "Thank you." He nodded and she revealed that she would ask Covington to bring an extra bed into the room.

Benji had another slumber session during the 8 o'clock hour and was awake two hours later, looking for food and a diaper change. When he nodded off once more 15 minutes past midnight, his parents took the chance to sleep as well. It was past 3:30AM when Harry was roused from sleep by the cries of the baby. It took him a few moments to shake off the disorientation and drowsiness, then he sat on the bed's edge and listened to determine if Hermione was up as well. When he only heard Benji's continued whines, he lurched over to the bassinet and saw that his son was wiggling in his blanket and had his face scrunched in marked displeasure. He was less than two days old but so far he'd only cried and made a fuss when he needed something - not simply because he could or because he was testing his vocals - so Harry surmised something needed to be taken care of.

"What's got you upset then, hmm? What do you need?" the young man inquired with a yawn. He watched Benji squirm for a handful of seconds more before he picked him up.

Harry went through the checklist to stop the squawking. He cleaned the infant's bottom and put him in a new diaper but the cries persisted. He reswaddled him and made sure the beanie on his head was secure for warmth but the cries persisted. He walked around the room while cradling Benji yet, while the cries lessened, they persisted. Peering down at the baby, he knew the only other likely reason for the unhappiness was hunger. Harry had left this for last because he wanted Hermione to sleep as long as possible but nature was calling and his son did not want to be denied.

The witch was in a quasi fetal position with her right arm thrown out in front of her and her left arm underneath the pillow. Her hair was absolutely everywhere. Harry felt badly that he had to interrupt her rest as he walked up to her bed. Even unconscious, she looked like she needed it, and she must have if she slept through the crying. (Giving birth was quite the undertaking).

He shushed Benji then put a hand on Hermione's exposed arm.

"Hermione. Wake up," he stated. His voice was adamant but he did not want to be too loud, "Benji's hungry, Hermione. Wake up."

Harry sat down and put a bit of force into rubbing her arm. When her eyes blinked open, he let her go and waited while she got her bearings.

"I think Benji's hungry," he told her when her bleary gaze landed on the two males, "I tried everything else." She sat up rapidly and threw her hair out of her face.

"I didn't hear him?" Hermione croaked, her brow furrowing. Harry shrugged and claimed:

"You're knackered."

Her frown deepened. The dark haired wizard did not hand the wailing newborn over until she reached her arms out for him, and he remained on the bed while she muttered pacifying things to Benji and positioned him against her bosom. She untied her gown at the back and lowered it on one side until her breast was exposed, then she offered the gland to her son. He latched in quick succession with her assistance and his cries halted at last.

"All better, love," she mumbled.

Harry did not move from his spot all the while. He did not stand up and move away from her bed in favor of his own, no. He watched his child suck from Hermione in silence with an ardent expression on his face. She glanced at him from under her eyelashes, taking notice now that Benji was seen to, and she resisted the urge to jerk in surprise at what she saw. Harry was shirtless. (He had not been when they bid each other good night so he must have gotten hot and removed the garment at some point).

Hermione wanted to think she did not understand why this was slightly shocking but that would be a lie, and when she recognized that she was staring, she felt heat infuse her cheeks so she looked away. Having him in this state of undress seemed intimate, and not strictly from a sexual standpoint. Additionally, she had not experienced intimacy with Harry since Benji's conception. In fact, the entire scene seemed intimate! That it was so quiet, that they were both showing skin, that she was engaging in such a primal, beautiful aspect of motherhood, that he sat so near to her and the baby - _their_ baby. It seemed a profound moment. An important one.

Neither adult spoke until Benji had his fill. Harry volunteered to burp him (citing that Hermione had done it last) and care for him while Benji stayed awake for the next couple hours. He encouraged the brunette to return to sleep and asserted that she needed it, and Hermione only gave weak arguments for five minutes before she conceded and, gratefully, slipped back into unconsciousness.

The first thing the pair talked about later that morning when both were awake was to revisit the topic of what would happen once Hermione and Benji went home. (They were going to be released from St. Mungo's at 9:30AM once Darla and Simon got there). That is, where precisely would home be for their son and what would Harry's time spent with him look like? The young parents had discussed this before but Harry wanted to know if things had changed since last week, had changed in lieu of the birth.

"I take it your discomfort with Benji being at Grimmauld hasn't disappeared," he posited in a clipped tone **.** Hermione chewed her bottom lip in concern, debating on how to reply in order to avoid stepping on a landmine.

"It's the house itself that I struggle with," she shared, "It's dark and dreary… it doesn't seem well suited for a newborn." There were also bad memories attached to it but she was not going to verbalize this.

Harry clenched his teeth to keep from spewing an automatic rebuttal. He had not remodeled much or given the dwelling a much needed face lift since moving there after the war, no. The house (had) reflected his state of mind, as it were, and it was hard to argue that it was not the best atmosphere for an infant. But he resided there and to think that he could not see his child in his domain was insulting.

"So he'll never be allowed over? It's where I _live_ , Hermione," he said.

"I did not say he'd never go over. And I know it's where you live. But Benji is brand _new_ and I'd just rather… I'd just rather Grimmauld feel more a bit more homey before that happens. What's more, the Healers say he should hardly go anywhere during the first month while his immunity builds." Hermione explained.

"Well then I hope your parents will be overjoyed to have me over so often to see him!" This came out in a half sneer and she knew Harry was poking to see if he could pick a fight because he was upset. He would not get it, however.

"I'll talk to them. I said I would. I said I wanted all of you to try to be better with each other, so I won't let them target you if you're just trying to be a good father."

Harry looked at her, robbed of words. She'd responded so logically, so calmly - rather the opposite of what he'd done. She had taken his ammunition.

"How often would you like to come over and be with him?" Hermione posed in the same hushed tone.

"Every other day. Every two days. Something like that," he eventually mumbled, peering at the floor with folded arms. The dark haired wizard felt a tad foolish now for his mockful statement but the fact remained that he was not satisfied with the notion of Grimmauld being off limits to Benji.

"All right. And when the month is over, and it's safe for him to travel, we can reassess taking him to Grimmauld."

Feeling more surprise, Harry brought his gaze to hers and gave a conciliatory nod before uncrossing his arms.

When Simon and Darla came to collect their daughter and grandson, Harry did not linger or accompany them to the house. Instead, he relayed that he would be over the day after next, said goodbye to Benji, and paused when it came to his farewell to Hermione. He did not want to give her a basic, verbal goodbye but her parents were present and it impeded anything he may have done if they were alone (like touching her face as he had the last time but taking it a step further and possibly _kissing_ some part of her face). He did not want to be scrutinized. Consequently, what he settled for was turning his back to the Grangers to block his action from their view and brushing a kiss against the knuckles of their daughter's right hand. Hermione had little time to react before Harry was leaving the room, although Simon watched him go with a suspicious eye. Frankly, she was taken aback by Harry's physical gestures, yesterday's and today's. She was uncertain what the motivation behind them was. Perhaps knowing she had birthed his child, witnessing said birth, and having said child with them was making him sentimental, she did not know. What she _did_ know was that they stole her breath; she found the gestures to be alarming and stimulating. They echoed the matter of intimacy between them, a matter that was quite confusing.

"Ready then, Bunny?" Mr. Granger asked a few minutes after Harry's departure. Covington had already come in to wrap things up and schedule a post-birth appointment six weeks in the future.

"Yes." Hermione confirmed, zipping the bag she had brought. Darla was strolling around the room and holding Benji, smiling at and talking to him.

"Your mum and I are sorry we couldn't be here for you yesterday. We both fretted over you being alone."

"It's all right, Dad. I know you had to square things away at the practice. And I wasn't alone; my friends came in shifts and Harry was with us all day."

Simon frowned at the mention of the other man. When Hermione had revealed to her parents that she was continuing with the pregnancy, he asserted that she would have to accept Harry's place as Benji's father and enact communication with him once more, but it appeared that _Simon_ was the one having trouble coming to terms with that.

The Grangers had hired a cleaning crew to come and thoroughly clean the house while they were at work the previous day and the young witch was happy to be back with her baby to introduce him to his new home. Crookshanks was not inside when they returned and, amused, she contemplated how the meeting between cat and infant would go when he was done with his outdoor exploits. Later in the day, Hermione received a big shock when she had the opportunity to look at the _Prophet_ while eating lunch. (Her father had Benji and she was positive that she was going to have to frequently wrestle her son away from his enraptured grandparents). The first article on the front page filled the entire space and it was about her, Harry, and _Benji_.

The picture that was featured was of Harry, one of the ones that had been taken during his resurrection from the past months. He looked his typical, surly self and he appeared to be hurrying in the photo, but what was shocking was that there was a statement from him in the article: an announcement of Benji's birth! The article was built around the announcement, in fact, and the paper reported that Harry had gone to them with the news. The statement was concise and mentioned nothing beyond the baby's first and middle names and birthday, yet it requested steadfast privacy for his safety and respect for them as novel parents until they were ready to give the next update. It ended with the wish that the DMLE would not have to be involved to help secure their privacy, and the sugarcoated threat made Hermione smirk.

The majority of the article was rife with theories about her and Harry's relationship and their coinciding disappearances, but the speculations were written romantically instead of salaciously. The article painted a picture of damaged war heroes carrying out a secret love affair for comfort that resulted in the conception of a child who would bring hope and healing to his parents and wizarding Britain at large. It was ludicrous and nothing close to the truth but Hermione did not care. What she cared about (and what shocked her) was that Harry had taken the initiative to enact their plan and so soon after the birth. It showed that he was serious about protecting Benji. It indicated that he was serious about fatherhood. His proaction made the brunette feel emotional as well, in a good way, yet she decided to wait to speak to him about it until he came to visit Benji in two days.

Incidentally, Hermione heard from Harry indirectly again the next day. During the morning, she took a picture of the baby to send to Healer Quinn and had an hour long conversation on the phone with Debbie while Simon watched his grandson when she was on the call. During the late afternoon, Kreacher popped into the extra bedroom-turned-nursery and made an unexpected visit while Benji was taking one of his numerous naps. Feeling somewhat perturbed at being startled, and glancing at the infant to ensure he was undisturbed, Hermione inquired as nicely as she could about the elf's presence.

"Master told Kreacher to come see Miss and give her moneys," he reported. When she appeared confused, he elaborated, "For the half blood babe's care." Kreacher then displayed a fat wad of pound notes and ignored the witch's marked surprise, waiting until she trepidly took it from his hand.

"Thank you, Kreacher," she said.

"Master will come see the babe tomorrow."

"Yes. Thank you again."

He shifted to his left to peer quizzically at where Benji slept for a moment or two before he bowed in deferment and disappeared. Hermione exhaled and gazed at the money with a frown before setting it down on an end table. Like the _Prophet_ announcement, she had thoughts and feelings about this action of Harry's and would bring it up along with the newspaper article tomorrow. She knew he meant well but everything about what just occurred bothered her. Having someone else deliver a substantial amount of money for his child's care seemed so distant, seemed like his involvement in choosing what Benji needed would be minimal. Hermione did not want that, and she had thought he did not either.

When Harry arrived at the Grangers' home the following morning, he was scrutinized by two parties. Crookshanks was on the scene lightning fast, before the wizard could even step ten paces inside. He was in his guard cat pose as he sniffed and investigated the human and, although he did not look particularly happy, he deemed Harry good enough to see the baby. Accordingly, the feline had taken to Benji quickly - for a cat. The first "meeting" consisted of Crookshanks staring at the newborn from across the room for 45 minutes before moving three feet away before then sniffing his things and _then_ sniffing around Benji himself two hours later, finally determining his mistress' offspring was now his to protect.

Harry only got to the sitting room before he encountered his second appraiser in the form of Simon. The older man remained silent as he stared at the younger, wearing that ominous, stormy look he had whenever Harry was in his presence, and the wizard did his very best to exhibit a neutral expression. He did not want to deal with Mr. Granger's disdain but he also did not want the time with his son to start off so negatively.

Simon stopped his quiet intimidation of Harry when Hermione appeared and he reminded his daughter to call on him or her mother if she or the baby needed anything, a message to Harry that they were not going anywhere during his visit and would immediately be there if anything sour happened. Hermione led Harry upstairs after giving her father a mildly exasperated (but thankful) look and took him to Benji, who was asleep in the bassinet in her room. After he admired the newborn for a bit, she showed him what the extra bedroom looked like since its conversion with Benji in mind; when they returned to her room, Harry instantly perched by the bassinet while the brunette sank down on her bed. (Neither wanted to think too heavily about the fact that the last time they had been together in this space had led to their child's existence and a crippling fracture for them).

"I saw the statement you gave to the newspaper about Benji," she shared in a careful tone. He peered up at her.

"Yes," Harry uttered, "I know I didn't wait for you. But we'd talked about what we'd say to the press and I wanted to take care of it right away so they'd know to leave us be. I wanted that before you left the hospital."

"I'm glad you did, Harry. It's all right that you did it without me. I'm glad you felt strongly about it."

"I went while Luna and Gi… while they visited you. Let's hope it's enough."

"Fleur said Bill was willing to strengthen the wards on the house, too, as a precaution." Hermione remarked. He felt awkward at the mention of the married couple but the offer appealed to him. Harry wanted the Granager home to be as secure as Grimmauld for Benjamin's (and his mother's) sake.

"That might be a good idea," he attested. She nodded.

"I got the money from Kreacher yesterday, as well."

"Good."

She took a beat before answering.

"I don't want to spend it unless we're together." Hermione declared.

"What?" the wizard questioned, making a face.

"I don't want to use it unless we're choosing and buying things for Benji _together_. You should be involved in those decisions. And I… I don't want to feel like you'll just throw money at us to solve problems." Or use it to cover up his uncomfortable feelings.

Harry kept quiet and continued to watch the sleeping baby.

"We could ask my parents to watch him while we go out and shop for what he needs. Or it might be easier to order things through a catalog and have them delivered. He's so young and I'd rather not leave him anytime soon," the witch explained, looking at him.

It took some for him to answer and Hermione fought the urge to play with her fingers while Harry said nothing.

"A catalog sounds good," he mumbled. A relieved smile broke out on her face and she nodded once more.

"I'll save the money in the meantime. He doesn't need anything right now so we'll use it in the future," she noted, "Thank you."

"I have more money than I can spend. You don't have to thank me for using it on my kid."

It was harder for Harry to stay for hours on end at the Grangers' than it had been at the hospital, and he knew it was because of Darla's and Simon's presence. He wanted to be with Benji and Hermione, however, so he endured the discomfort, something that _was_ made easier since the older couple generally left them to their own devices.

In the afternoon, Hermione and Harry gave the baby his first bath since leaving St. Mungo's and did so in the kitchen sink while standing side by side. They were particularly nervous because he was delicate and small but they managed well, and Benji made sure they knew he disapproved of the bath by squirming and squalling throughout the entire ordeal. He quieted only after being clothed and placed snugly in a light blanket in his father's arms, with his mother watching him fondly from her spot next to them on the couch. Harry reflected that the bath had been intimidating yet enjoyable in that he and Hermione had done it together. They had stumbled together, worked together, and even laughed together at certain points as they groomed Benji. He had forgotten about the strain between them during the bath, forgotten how he had wrecked things and forgotten that things were not all right.

The bath had given Harry a glimpse of the past and the future - a reminder of how (good) it used to feel working congenially with Hermione and a teaser of what it could be like raising Benji with her. Things were not all right, no, but the bath made him feel like they ultimately might be.

* * *

Hermione smiled as she folded a blanket that had bumblebees on it.

So many of Benji's possessions had bees on them: clothes, accessories, toys… it was the (adorable) consequence of being called Bea for half of the pregnancy and having his first name start with the phoneme.

The brunette moved on to fold two socks together when an unhappy squawk left her son's mouth. She ignored it and kept folding things until consecutive cries erupted, then she dropped what was in her hand and bustled over to the crib to see what the problem was. Benji was flailing his limbs and fussing, and his gray eyes were no longer captivated by the overhead mobile that had held his interest for the past quarter of an hour. Said eyes had darkened over the past couple days but Hermione knew that, because he was so young, their true color would not emerge until months from now. Her intuition, however, was telling her that he would have brown eyes like most of her family.

"What is it, little prince?" she asked. She made a soothing noise and pet his fine, black hair (an indisputable trait from his father) with a smile on her face. She had adopted the term of endearment Healer Covington gave Benji on the day of his birth, as had Mrs. Granger.

"You shouldn't be hungry… you ate fairly recently. Do you want attention?" Hermione posed. He squawked loudly again as his face bunched further in agitation, but in the next couple seconds he froze momentarily before an unmistakable toot came from the bottom half of his body.

"Oh!," she mentioned as she drew her head back, "You're gassy! I see."

The baby looked more satisfied now and even emitted a few gurgles as he resettled. His mother grinned and stroked his cheek, resisting the urge to pick him up since he was finding his own contentment again.

Benji was almost three weeks old and Hermione was terribly in love with her son. (Most) Everything he did enchanted her. She had worried that she would feel unprepared and insufficient when it came to being a mother at this age, especially one in these circumstances, but that was not the case. Yes, she fumbled and felt in over her head at times, like _all_ new mothers, but her love for Benji and what it propelled her to do for him was natural and required little thought. Hermione had never felt this amount of love for anyone or anything in her life, which was a testament in itself considering her vast capacity for love. She had not known she would cherish Benji so rapidly, either; it was innate.

Conversely, what she did _not_ love was her body's recovery from the pregnancy and birth. She had a(nother) month or two ahead of her and she was apprehensive. Some of the symptoms were very familiar to her, such as abdominal pain, swelling, soreness and mood swings due to fluctuating hormone levels, but new symptoms included hair loss, vaginal bleeding and potential bowel issues, and they seemed worse. Additionally, there were baby items all over the house now. Hermione's room had a bassinet and a rocking chair, the bedroom-nursery had a crib, combination changing table & dresser and a toy basket, the living room had a swing and nursery rug, and an entire counter in the kitchen was devoted to Benji. And this was not to mention things that were stored away until he was old enough to use them in a few weeks' or months' time (e.g., his stroller, playpen).

Benji had taken near complete control of her life but the Muggleborn did not mind. He was precious and worth it. Hermione was so attached to him that she'd wanted to disregard her birthday in order to stay close to him, and she would have had not her friends and mother encouraged her to take a few hours for herself. Her 21st birthday had been one week prior and it had taken intense persuasion from her loved ones to celebrate in _some_ way. She had not wanted to be far from Benji distance wise nor did she want to be away for half the day or longer, so she'd agreed to a four hour outing with her four closest Hogwarts chums and Fleur (all of whom had visited the newborn again since the hospital). Darla happily babysat while her daughter was out but she knew that, while Hermione may have been having a wonderful time, the younger woman was probably thinking about her baby all the while. Her hunch was confirmed when Hermione returned home and instantaneously scooped up Benji, babbling how much she had missed his little face and was relieved to be home. Her birthday ended that night with a home cooked dinner from (and with) her parents, and she tried to ignore the upset she felt as the day came to a close that she had not heard a peep from Harry.

He had no obligation to contact her, of course, and this was New Harry she was contending with, but... she had acknowledged _his_ birthday and even given him a meaningful gift of sorts, and they'd been parenting Benji surprisingly well since his birth. She supposed it would have merely been nice to be recognized on her birthday by her child's father. (Which was why, when Harry showed up the following day to her house for his time with Benji and had a birthday present for her, her smile was sincere and sweet).

Currently, Hermione was tidying her son's things while she waited for Harry to arrive for one of his weekly visits, the second of the week. He would be pleased that Benji was awake and ready to interact. What she did not know was that he was already downstairs and had been for ten minutes, having a conversation with her father at Simon's insistence. Mr. Granger had found Harry staring at old family pictures on the wall before he made his way upstairs, one foot on the bottom step. When the older man saw that he was analyzing a picture of four year old Hermione, a four year old who was more hair than body and showing her large but cute front teeth via a wide smile, he frowned and resigned himself to something he'd been contemplating since Benjamin's birth.

A tap on the shoulder and a head nod in the direction of the living room later found Simon and Harry facing one another. The wizard had seen less of Simon and Darla the past two weeks since they returned to work at their practice but, combined, they still worked a reduced amount of hours. If one parent was working full time for a day, the other would work a few hours less in order to be present at home for their daughter and grandson. (They planned to do this for another two weeks before resuming their typical work schedules). Today, Simon was the one working reduced hours and would go to the practice in a couple hours' time to join his wife, but now he had the chance, and a glimmer of patience, to speak frankly to the man who had caused Hermione so much pain.

"I will never forget what you put Hermione through. I will never forget that she had to _leave_ us because of you," he commenced, arms folded across his chest, "It's likely I will never forgive it, either."

Harry's mouth contorted but he fought to keep it from forming a scowl as he gazed at Mr. Granger. He had known the conversation would not be friendly when he followed the older man into the room but he was truthfully not prepared for verbal punches this suddenly.

"You will never know how it felt when Darla and I found Hermione screaming in her bedroom, half dressed and inconsolable, because of you. You will never know how difficult it was to watch my terrified daughter leave the country and you will never know how infuriated I was when I discovered you'd gotten her pregnant," Simon added, "I wanted to physically break you every one of those times. When I see you in our home now throughout the week, sometimes that urge resurfaces."

Harry clenched his teeth and felt his heart rate start to pick up. He had no idea what Mr. Granger's angle was but he felt he should remain quiet, despite how arduous it was.

"You will never know how I've felt since you came back into Hermione's life and I, frankly, don't want to explain it to you beyond what I've said. But - you are my grandson's father. That cannot be changed. And, as a father, you will come to understand _why_ I feel the way I do about you. You will understand the irrational protectiveness that comes with fatherhood. You will feel it for Benjamin." Simon informed.

"I already do." Harry asserted, thinking of his stern entreaty to the _Prophet_. Thinking of the utter relief that flooded him when he and Hermione had made a covert trip to the Ministry four days ago to assign Benji's surname. Knowing that his son was now officially a Potter and would be afforded certain protections due to the clout of their family name.

"Good. Because you didn't bother to protect his mother. You did the opposite, in fact."

Harry could feel his magic start to prickle in warning so he focused on keeping his breathing even. He did not want to hear this, even if it was the truth.

"Is there something specific you wanted to say, Mr. Granger? Besides reinforcing that you hate me?" he asked, sounding short.

"I want to make sure you know to never harm my child again, or even think of harming yours."

"I won't!" It came out as a growl.

The thought of Hermione and Benji suffering was horrendous, especially at his hands. He'd rather be buried next to Dumbledore than witness that. Harry knew he was guilty of it with Hermione and it was partly why he got so defensive whenever someone brought it up. There was still much shame attached to it that he needed to wade through.

"I'll say it again: good." Simon remarked. He then walked away without further comment.

Harry took a handful of moments to bring himself down a bit before he marched up the stairs to seek out the brunette witch and their baby. Half of his aggravation vanished when he saw that Benji was awake and his mother was in a good mood, and the other half retreated to a different part of his mind to be brooded over later. Seeing them both helped to calm his nerves.

A number of hours passed, during which Simon left for work and Benji slipped into his second sleep cycle, and Hermione took the opportunity to address something with Harry she'd thought about since they'd both signed their names on Benji's birth certificate days earlier recognizing him as Potter. The pair had not discussed anything about their pre-Benji relationship since he came into the world; they had not had time. It had not been a priority. But they appeared to be getting accustomed to having a tiny person to care for and look after, and she was ready to continue exploring the problems they had before becoming parents.

"I have a question," she stated, sounding pensive.

"Of course you do." Harry responded, wanting to smirk goodnaturedly. He languidly flipped a page of the shopping catalog they were perusing. (There was no intent to purchase anything for Benji but if they saw something then they would mark it).

"I want to know why... why you started sleeping with me. In the months after you let me back in. I know it was ages ago but I never… we never talked about it. I don't know what pushed you to do it." There was a stiff pause.

"Hermione, please," He groaned, placing his face in his hands, "I had a difficult conversation with your dad when I first got here. I don't want to have another!"

Hermione looked at him in surprise. He had not mentioned that tidbit of information and he'd been here for quite some time!

"What about?" she pondered.

"He essentially said he can't stand the thought of me and told me I'd better not dream of hurting you _or_ Benji as long as I live," the wizard revealed. The Muggleborn's surprise did not abate. She was stunned that her father had spoken to Harry. She had half expected both males to not say a word to each other until Benji's first birthday rolled around!

"I'm sorry he approached you like that. I can remind him of what he promised."

"No, don't bother," Harry exhaled and lifted his face, "It wasn't as bad as it sounds. I suppose that was a long time coming from him, anyway."

Hermione hummed thoughtfully. It was silent for a couple moments before she said:

"It was a difficult way to be greeted, yes. It has nothing to do with my question, however, and I'd like it if you'd answer."

He shut his eyes and stifled a sigh. Was she back to posing these hard hitting questions? Was he ready to be roped back into them? (Was he able to digest them better now?)

"I wanted to see if I could. I wanted to see if I could do it," he reported in a flat tone, "I had lingering thoughts from Slytherin's locket. Sometimes, during the hunt, it suggested I could have you that way. If I wanted."

The young woman looked nothing short of stricken as she gaped at Harry and processed what he had told her. It felt like her stomach dropped to her feet.

"So it… it was because of that h-horrid locket. You did it to prove it right?," she inquired in a shaky voice, "That's all?" Harry opened his eyes and peered at her, and quickly felt troubled at how wounded she looked.

"No! It wasn't, wasn't _just_ because of that disgusting piece of Riddle. There was more to it!"

"Like what?"

"Like, like that I, I…. _Damn it_ , Hermione!" he exclaimed. His hands shot into his hair at his unexpected burst of frustration.

"Like _what_ , Harry?" Hermione repeated. She still sounded shaken. He had not meant for her to be dismayed! He growled at the turn of events; he had to right it as best he could.

"It wasn't only memories of the Horcrux. I'd… I'd missed you, okay? You were the only person I'd let come round after so long. I was spending time with you again, and, it felt good."

It was silent. She felt disturbed by his admission but the longer she sat with her thoughts, the more she accepted his words. During her very first visit with him, months after he had cut himself off, Harry _had_ mentioned the Horcrux and implied it projected lewd ideas about her while he'd worn it. That had been roughly two years ago. (Had it already been two years)?! Hermione realized that for Harry, at the time and with his state of mind, the locket would have been his primary motivation for initiating sex with her, and likely the only motivation he was willing to admit. _That_ Harry would never have said what he'd just said to her - that missing a connection with her was a reason for why he slept with her. But it _had_ been two years, and he was not the same. He still presented as hard and jagged but his crudeness was waning and, most significantly, he was more open about his emotions, with himself and with her.

"Say something," he directed. There was irritation and pleading in his voice.

"So you'd missed time with me, in addition to the locket." Hermione summarized. Harry gave a sharp nod and then glanced at her, seeing that she was nodding slowly herself and pulling the catalog towards her.

She understood that Benji was the only thing that made up for the hell Harry had put her through during that time, but she could not deny that she felt assuaged knowing he _had_ cared. Even then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tend to lose my desire to write for a period of time after I finish a story (for some reason). Since I completed one in August, I took an unintentional break so I skipped posting this chapter last month. Only one more chapter to go then this story will be complete as well.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again after a (seeming) 10 year absence! There are quite a few reasons why I'm delayed in finishing this story - the holidays, moving, general 2020 madness, no desire to write - but I'm back to finish the job. I had to break this last part into two chapters from one because the length was getting unmanageable. (That happens to me often).
> 
> The good news with that is you readers won't have to wait long to get the final installment. I will post it in a matter of days.

Both Hermione and Harry were amazed by how quickly Benji grew. His emerging personality shined more with each passing day and his parents were pleased by how easy going of a baby he was. Hermione loved to hear the noises he made (especially the coos) and appreciated that he typically only cried out of necessity, but he had his moments when he was markedly grumpy and they reminded her just a little _too_ much of when Harry got testy. There was something else he shared with his father that was also cementing itself: his black hair. Benji's hair had been straight and wispy up until he was four weeks old, at which point it'd started to curl into a pattern that would not lie flat when brushed down. Most of it would fall in line but the ends remained obstinate and retained their curls, and Hermione feared ( _knew_ ) it would simply worsen as the months went by. And to top it off, she was unsure if her hair or Harry's hair was to blame.

The baby was six weeks old when he was taken on his first walk in the stroller by his parents. Benji cried at first, unhappy with the cold air, and a nervous Hermione hugged him in her arms while verbally expressing her doubts about the planned activity.

"Perhaps we should wait. He's fussy... he's not in the right mood," the young mother suggested.

"He can't stay inside forever, Hermione. He'll be fine," Harry notified, bending in front of the stroller with his wand, "We'll charm the pram so it stays warm for him."

He beckoned for Benji after the spell was cast and she reluctantly handed him over. He informed the infant that things were okay while he carefully situated him in the seat, then remained crouched as he helped to calm his son through touch. When Benji's whimpers tapered off, Harry stood and looked expectantly at Hermione as if to say "see?" To further ensure that he stayed content during the walk, he was given a pacifier for the very first time. He looked at his father with scrunched eyebrows as he sucked on it and processed this new object that was so different yet so similar to the wonderful food source that came from his mother; consequently, he signified his acceptance of it by emitting a few coos and sucking particularly hard.

"He likes the dummy." Harry said with half a grin. Hermione nodded, smiling from having heard him coo, and swooped down to drop a kiss on Benji's forehead.

The pair kept a watchful eye while they trekked through the Grangers' neighborhood for 30 minutes but Harry more so, wanting to make sure they were not taken by surprise by paparazzi or zealous citizens. They had yet to take Benji on a public outing but submitted a picture of him to the _Prophet_ two days previously to keep their upper hand and allay the wizarding population's need for all things Harry Potter.

Their jaunt was not rife with conversation but it was easy when it was made… that is until one sentence came from Hermione's mouth.

"Tell me about Gemma," she stated, walking on Harry's left side and peering at him.

She had been quiet for a handful of minutes as she scrounged up the fortitude necessary to make this request, the topic of which had been on her mind for the past number of days. This time seemed better than any other as of late to ask although she reasoned there was hardly ever an ideal time to discuss such sensitive matters with him.

Harry was pushing the stroller and, at her words, she saw his hands tighten on the bar and his jaw set. (The brunette knew he was highly uncomfortable, upset, or defensive when his jaw tightened).

"Why?" he questioned after an entire minute. He sounded incredibly calm.

"Because I want to know about her."

" _Why_?"

"Because she was the one _you_ asked to cheat with my boyfriend." Hermione pointed out. The wizard clenched and unclenched his fingers as he exhaled through his nose.

"What brought this up?" he wondered.

"She's been on my mind for the past year. I've thought about her since I saw her in your memories."

"I don't know why knowing about her will make you feel better."

"I didn't say it would. But I do deserve to know," she claimed, "These are all conversations we never had that we should have, Harry. I'm owed them."

It was quiet for a bit.

"Well go on," he bit out, staring at the stroller's awning. Hermione released the breath she'd been holding and then pondered:

"Did she know I was dating Troy?"

"She found out soon after meeting him."

"Hmm. And that wasn't enough to stop her… pleasing you clearly meant more to her."

The wizard side eyed her and shrugged.

"Do you still see her?" she inquired.

"I haven't seen or spoken to her since you left for Canada, and she hasn't bothered to contact me." Harry revealed.

"Was she your girlfriend?"

"Of course not." This came out quickly and as a scoff.

"Where'd you meet her?" Hermione wondered.

"Through an old acquaintance," Harry remarked, "I don't speak to him anymore, either."

"Did you see her often?"

"I saw her more when you weren't speaking to me."

"Did you like her?" she posed, her voice muted. There was some silence while he thought. He had liked the sex he got from her and the fact that she was willing to do many things for him, but she herself had been vapid. The blonde could have been anyone, really.

Harry shrugged one shoulder.

"I liked her enough," he noted.

"Did you apologize to her? For using her?"

Harry turned his head to gaze at her and looked disbelieving. His mouth was open as he struggled to find the appropriate response.

"Believe it or not, she wasn't some helpless damsel, Hermione! Fine - I used her. But she never once said anything against it. Not once! She had no problem doing it," explained Harry, sounding frustrated, "That wasn't her first time doing something awful; she's done quite a few dodgy things in her lifetime. I didn't take some angel and corrupt her, you know? She was willing to join me in my mess."

It was quiet once more, for a much longer period of time. Hermione peered at the sidewalk or the stroller but not at the dark haired wizard next to her. It was obvious she was thinking. Harry wanted to know what was on her mind and felt antsy the longer she remained quiet. When he could take it no longer, he questioned:

"Was that… are you all right?" He glanced at her with a frown. He had tried to keep her from asking about Gemma for this reason - so it would not ruin her mood!

The Muggleborn was the one to shrug this time.

"I asked. I knew I wouldn't be thrilled by what you told me, but now I know," she relayed. He sighed.

"Look… it was never anything more than fun with her, if you want to call it that. She was a nice distraction when you would have nothing to do with me and I was angry about it. I knew she would go along with my idea to break you up from Heathcliff and that's why I asked her. That's really all there is to it." Harry attested in a low voice. After a pause, she nodded.

"I'll push Benji. It's my turn."

This was the last thing Hermione said until the trio concluded its walk ten minutes later and was standing on her front porch. Her non-responsiveness had left Harry agitated and worried that she might cut his visit short and tell him to leave now that they were back, and a part of him felt bitter about the possibility because _she_ had insisted they discuss Gemma. The brunette removed Benji from his stroller and her mood seemed to instantly lift as she smiled sweetly at him.

"Hello Benjamin," she sing-songed, "Did my little prince enjoy his walk?" She gently took the pacifier out of his mouth. It took a few tugs but he finally released it, and she rewarded the infant with another grin for complying. Benji stared at her for only a moment before copying his mother's facial expression to show his own happiness, and the brightness of it lit up his entire face. Hermione gasped.

"Harry, _look_! He's smiling! Intentionally!" she exclaimed. The stroller clattered to the ground as Harry abandoned folding it and stood at her elbow in a heartbeat. Afraid that it may have been too quick for him to witness, he was relieved, and amazed, to see that the baby still wore an adorable smile.

"I've never seen him do that," he noted while he stared in awe.

"I know! It's only the second time he's smiled socially!" Hermione reported. The first time had been two days previously when Benji was reunited with her after she took a nap and she greeted him with enthusiasm after taking him from Mr. Granger's arms. (She had excitedly told Harry about the incident and he'd been disappointed that he'd not been present to see the milestone himself).

"You liked the walk, did you? Or is it your mum or the dummy you like?" the young man pondered. An unnoticed smile was shaping his mouth and he tapped the infant's nose twice. Benji's smile was reinforced with the motion and he kicked his feet, causing Harry to grin fully and Hermione to give a delighted laugh.

"All of the above! He likes walks and his mummy _and_ his new treasure," the brunette attested, jiggling the pacifier in her hand and gazing at her child, "And he likes Daddy, too."

Harry quickly peered at Hermione but she kept babbling to Benji, too consumed with the infant to pay him any mind. He watched her interact with their son and felt a growing sense of wholeness that matched his smile as each second ticked away.

As the days came and went and Benji developed, Hermione recognized that she had to decide what to do regarding work. She knew she could return to the Ministry department in which she had been stationed before moving to Canada, and she would welcome it, but committing to the idea was difficult because it would mean leaving Benji. Originally, she'd considered going back to work when he was three months old but that benchmark arrived much too soon and he still seemed much too small to leave, even knowing that Molly was waiting in the wings as a spare babysitter. The young witch was not ready, simply put, so she decided to give herself another three months of time with her child and return to work when he was six months old. She _also_ wanted more time to observe Harry and confirm that he was ready to care for Benji on his own when she was at work, but she did not vocalize this to him lest it cause a fight.

Incidentally, three months was a significant point in Benji's life, for him and his parents. One week after this milestone, Debbie arrived in the UK to stay with the Grangers for a short period of time. She and Hermione rejoiced in seeing one another again and she positively fawned over the baby, like everyone else who met him. There was one day that Hermione fulfilled her role as host and took her friend into London, as Debbie had never been to England, and the 10 hours they were out was the longest amount of time the witch had been away from Benji. It had been wonderful to take a break from active motherhood duties and reconnect with a friend, admittedly, but Hermione found there was no reward like the joy of returning to her child after time away.

Harry stayed away from the Grangers while the Canadian woman visited. He did not want to meet someone new or be judged by Debbie after Hermione told her God knew what about him, but he did have a discreet fire call with the brunette witch two of the evenings Debbie was there in order to see Benji for a few minutes. Naturally, Debbie was curious about Harry and hoped to catch sight of him at least once but expected nothing less when it did not come to pass. However, she was glad to hear from Hermione that she and her baby's father were on good terms when it came to raising Benji, and it seemed it would stay that way for the foreseeable future.

While mother and son were preoccupied by Debbie for those number of days, Harry prepared himself for a conversation he intended to have with Hermione. He had not brought up the issue of Benji being allowed to visit Grimmauld Place since the day after the birth, when Hermione said they would revisit the topic after he was one month old. Well, two additional months had passed and neither he nor she had said another word about it. Harry had gotten into a groove - gotten used to the arrangement of spending time with Benji at the Grangers' multiple times a week - and it fell to the back of his mind. Hermione, too, had fallen into the routine of their parenting arrangement and easily allowed it to slip from her mind (for she had not been crazy about the idea to begin with). It was not until Debbie had been gone from English soil for a few days and Christmas was five days away that the dark haired wizard broached the subject.

"When can Benji come to Grimmauld?" he asked abruptly, seated on the sofa in the Grangers' living room. He was leaned over with his forearms on his knees while Hermione sat on the floor close to the Christmas tree, Benji in her lap. This was their spot because the baby loved staring at the tree and would often reach for the ornaments.

The Muggleborn scrunched her brow and peered at Harry. She'd been interrupted from thinking how this time a year ago her life had fallen to pieces after Harry dismantled her relationship with Troy and sexually manipulated her, and she'd been an emotional wreck; now, she had an infant in her arms because of that fallout.

"Sorry?" she uttered.

"You said we would talk about him visiting Grimmauld after he was a month old. It didn't happen and now he's three and a half."

"Oh. Yes. Grimmauld."

Hermione gazed at the tree like Benji was, diving back into her thoughts.

"Well?," prompted Harry a tad impatiently when she said nothing more, "Has his immunity built enough? Do you finally believe I'm sticking around? Will you loosen my leash?"

"Stop it," she retorted, glaring at him. She was already feeling morose from reflecting where she'd been a year ago and did not want his attitude in addition to that.

He noticed her edge and frowned, deciding to change his approach. New Harry was interested in stoking the fires for a fight because he was being treated unfairly, but Old Harry was noticeably louder and told him to drop it, to not upset her further.

"Let my son come to where I live, Hermione. I've done everything your way since you've been back," he declared, looking at her solemnly, "Give me something. This is all I'm asking. Please."

The young woman stared at him with an impassive expression before glancing at Benji and tenderly petting his black locks.

"Okay. Yes. He can go, after Christmas." Hermione replied. Harry exhaled and dropped his shoulders before saying:

"Thank you."

She kept quiet and they listened to the baby gurgle at the tree. Consequently, Harry's frown returned at her continued silence and he started to wonder what was going through her head. She had seemed detached since his arrival two hours ago, in fact, but he had no clue as to why. Was it related to him? Would she want to speak about it?

"Hermione?" he commenced, deciding to see if he could discover the reason for her distance. Hermione, however, turned suddenly and offered Benji to him (whom he accepted on instinct).

"Do you mind?," she questioned, "I… I just need a bit of time. I'll be back."

Harry felt stunned as he and Benji watched her leave the room and go up the stairs without a backward glance. What just happened? She had never left Benji with him and disappeared without explanation up to this point. It was so unlike her! She was usually attentive and engaged, for most things. What was going on with her at the moment? It worried the wizard and some part of him wanted to follow her to check in, but he stayed put and looked at Benji with a small frown, asking the infant if he knew what was bothering his mother.

Hermione and Benji spent Christmas Eve at the Burrow with her magical family. _All_ of the Weasleys were present along with Neville and his grandmother and Luna and her father, and four extra guests stopped in as well: Hagrid, McGonagall, Andromeda Tonks and a toddler Teddy Lupin. It was a terrific surprise for Hermione to see their faces and she shed a healthy amount of tears over it (not the only one to do so). All three adults were touched to see Benji in person yet saddened by the reminder of the general loss of Harry, but they were assuaged to hear Hermione's report that he was a faithful father. Additionally, Andromeda privately shared something with the brunette that contributed to the tears she released that day. The older woman revealed that she sent Harry letters on Teddy's birthday and Christmas for the past two years despite his self-imposed seclusion, letters to which he did not respond. However, she received a (short) reply that very morning for the Christmas letter she sent him this year - the first reply she'd gotten out of five letters.

"This beautiful child may be able to do for Harry what no one else could. No one but you, of course, dear." Andromeda remarked. She smiled hopefully at Hermione before caressing Benji's cheek. The Muggleborn was gratified to hear about Harry's responsiveness to Teddy's grandmother but had conflicting feelings about Andromeda's prediction, so she only responded with what she knew to be true.

"He's... he's trying. And that makes me happy."

Incidentally, Harry was invited to the Grangers' home on Christmas day. He'd debated with Hermione about going because he did not want to endure the tension with her parents (mostly Simon) but she insisted he come, in disbelief that he would miss Benji's first Christmas.

"This isn't me inviting you on my own. My mum wants you there too! She said you must be there for his first Christmas, that it's something no parent should miss," she attested. He grumbled to himself before it got quiet.

"They both see how committed you are to Benji. I know they appreciate it, even if my dad may never say it," Hermione added, trying to catch his eye, "And _I_ don't want you to be alone that day." Harry's head remained down but his eyes rose to meet hers.

"Fine. Okay," he uttered after a moment. She flashed him a smile and nodded in satisfaction.

"Breakfast is at nine o'clock."

Harry's everlasting desire to be with Hermione and Benji is what overcame his aversion to spending prolonged time with her parents on a day that was meant to be about family and cheer, although that did not stop him from carrying trepidation to the front door on Christmas morning. He worried about feeling out of place, as he was not family and certainly not cheerful.

"Happy Christmas, Harry!" Hermione greeted when she opened the door with gusto. Benji was secured by her left arm and dressed to match his mother. She was wearing a long sleeved, red dress with gold trim and the infant was dressed in red pants and a white shirt, with gold socks on his feet.

The dark haired young man grinned slightly at the image before him. They both looked adorable, adorable enough to eclipse his dark attire of black jeans and a black and green plaid flannel. (At least the green was something that could be considered festive)!

"Happy Christmas," he muttered. Hermione motioned him inside and he went, taking Benji from her side and grinning further at his son. The baby showed a gummy smile in reply and frantically waved his arms. Harry followed her to the kitchen and so happened to glance at the fireplace in the sitting room, where four stockings representing everyone in the family had been hung for the past two weeks. He was, therefore, shocked to see a fifth stocking, one that had not been present during his visit two days prior, one that had his name on it. He gawked at it before peering at the back of Hermione's head and, without his permission, felt much of the apprehension begin to dwindle.

* * *

When Benji was roughly one week away from turning four months old, Hermione finally allowed him to visit Grimmauld Place, as she'd promised Harry. Conversely, her skepticism over bringing him to the former Black residence was the highest it had ever been, and not because of Harry's behavior. The home was just too gloomy and foreboding, and she did not want to expose the small boy to that kind of environment. As she steeled herself and walked through the front door with Benji in her arms, that skepticism evaporated instantaneously when she walked through the main living room and its adjoining rooms with an open mouth.

It was not the house she remembered. All of the walls had new paint - beige, which was quite the contrast from the previous gray - and many objects and furniture that had been staples had been removed. There was new furniture, and in the kitchen and bathrooms a couple appliances had been replaced. What was more, this theme of newness carried throughout the entire structure; most of the rooms in the house had been touched to some degree. But what really took Hermione's breath away was Regulus' old room, which had been transformed entirely. It was the brightest room in the home with the baseboards painted green like grass, the walls painted off white, and the ceiling painted sky blue. There was a crib, bassinet, toy chest, bookshelves, two armchairs, and a large, white, plush rug in the middle of it all. It was perfect, and it brought tears to Hermione's eyes and a hand to her mouth. Harry hesitantly watched her take it all in before he offered an explanation.

"You said Grimmauld was dreary, was no place for a baby. You were right," he murmured, scratching the back of his neck, "So Kreacher and I… changed some things. He wasn't happy with the idea at first but I let him keep what he wanted in the attic, and he was keen to have so many things to do. It worked out." She whipped her head to look at him, water still brimming her eyes.

"It's... Harry, it's splendid. All of it. I wasn't expecting...," she remarked, trailing off before speaking again, "You two did everything on your own?"

"Magic makes everything easier - except the painting. I did that all by hand." He did not mention that painting had been rather cathartic, a surprising revelation that spurred him to paint every surface that needed it.

"I can't believe you did all this." Hermione noted, peering around the room again. Benji, too, had been mesmerized by the space upon entry and let out an enthusiastic shriek at all the visual stimulation.

"We had three months. Loads of time," Harry shrugged, glancing at his son, "And I did it for Benji. I'm glad he gets to finally see it all." She looked at him once more, continuing to appear emotional.

"Why didn't you ever say that you were remodeling?"

"I dunno."

The wizard seemed a bit uncomfortable now but Hermione only stared at him for another moment before she acted. Without warning, she grabbed his collar with her available hand, pulled him down, and planted a firm kiss on his cheek. Benji acted as well and, with Harry's new position, he took the opportunity to rapidly throw out a pudgy, little hand and seize his father's hair. Harry was assailed by emotion at the simultaneous acts, although shock led the forefront. He was shocked that the brunette had kissed him (it was the first gesture of physical affection she had shown him since Benji's conception) _and_ by the baby's sudden maneuver. However, there was also mounting amusement by Benji's antics and undeniable pleasure from Hermione's gesture.

She'd _kissed_ him!

"Oh, no. Benjamin, let go of Daddy," she instructed. She sounded both stern and entertained, and the infant squealed happily at being addressed. She gave a humored snort before removing Benji's hand, who screamed again but in objection, and took a step back, permitting Harry to straighten up. He was grinning and his eyes darted between mother and baby.

"I reckon that was his way of saying he approves?" the young man posed, ruffling the spot of hair Benji had grabbed.

"Yes. And the kiss was mine."

They gazed at each other (somewhat heatedly) until she smiled beatifically at him, jostled Benji on her hip, and walked farther in the room to investigate. Hermione pointed things out to the small boy as they walked around the room and Harry silently observed them, remaining in his spot. She appreciated the house's renovations, she loved Benji's room, and she had actually kissed him. She was _happy_ and _he_ was the cause... he had almost forgotten what that felt like.

Hermione could not help but gush to her parents and Hogwarts friends about the changes Harry made to his living space for his child's sake. Simon and Ron were stunned by the news, Darla was mollified, Luna and Fleur were pleased, and Ginny seemed ambivalent. Hermione and Benji began venturing to Grimmauld twice a week while Harry's travels to the Grangers' reduced to once a week, and he welcomed both changes. Once the grand home officially opened to Benji, many important conversations happened there between his parents. The topics were often strenuous or would have strenuous patches, just based on their unsavory history following the war, yet it was unusual for them to leave one another without the issue being (somewhat) resolved.

One of the more memorable conversations involved Ron and left Harry frustrated and flustered, bewildered at how Hermione had gotten his stance to align more with hers at the end of it. The little family had been situated in the library as Harry entertained Benji with a Snitch rattle and Hermione scanned through a book, although her attention was equally invested in the two males.

"What position do you think you might play, then?," the dark haired wizard inquired, having just explained the differing Quidditch roles to the baby, "Which one sounds good?" Benji garbled a few somethings then reached for the rattle that was enticing him.

"Hmm. Seeker, you say? Excellent choice. I totally support that decision." Harry remarked. Hermione looked up from the book and gave a secret smile.

"You're clearly biased. If you'd been teasing him with a rattle that looked like a Quaffle, his answer might be different," the young mother pointed out. Harry glanced at her, smirking.

"He's made his choice. We have to respect it."

"You could be a Keeper like your Uncle Ron, couldn't you, sweetheart?"

Harry's jocular mood took a hit at the mention of the red head and he struggled not to roll his eyes as he let Benji (who squealed victoriously) capture the toy. Hermione, conversely, noticed his reaction.

"The two of you won't be taking Benji to Quidditch games together, I see," she muttered. He gave her a pointed look but did not answer. She allowed some time to pass before she carefully eyed him and asked a question.

"Do you think you might ever feel comfortable having Ron come to Grimmauld again?"

Harry scoffed before peering at her.

"Have you been waiting to ask me that?" he pondered, looking as though she'd sprouted another head.

"Not waiting, per se, but I have wondered about it," the witch informed, "But it's more than that - I wonder if you'll ever feel comfortable around Ron again, period. Regardless of where."

"Why?"

"Because I… I want the two of you to be able to reconnect. It would be wonderful."

"Would it?" Harry challenged.

"Yes. Because I care about you both, and we all love Benji. For his sake, I don't want to have to keep the two of you separate." Hermione explained.

"He's a baby now. It doesn't matter!"

"But it will! Eventually, it will. And it's not only that, Harry. I… I-I've thought of, of, godparents, and -"

" _What_?" he prompted. His voice was ominously quiet and he was studying her with a heavily furrowed brow. Hermione felt a well conditioned jolt of anxiety at Harry's reaction, but when she glanced at their baby and saw him chomping on the rattle while he watched their interaction, it quickly faded.

"I think Benji should have godparents. At least one," she attested, resolve on her face and in her voice, "And I think it should be Ron."

Benji hummed while he mouthed the toy and his mother and father stared at each other. The witch was wary but ready for whatever Harry threw at her. She felt strongly about this and would stand her ground as rationally and calmly as possible.

"Ron," the wizard stated, his tone flat. Hermione licked her lips and remarked:

"Who else? He's our - my - closest friend. He knows us well -"

"He doesn't know me anymore," came the refute.

"Not for lack of trying. He tried just as hard as I did to keep you in his life," she countered. He huffed and made a face, looking away.

"We didn't talk about godparents before he was born but I think Benji would be all the better for it. You've experienced yourself how influential they can be." Hermione continued after a moment. His expression twisted at her statement.

"Is it even necessary? Won't your parents take care of him if something happens to us?" Harry inquired, sounding irked and a little desperate (perhaps to keep from thinking of his own godfather).

"Yes they will, surely, but they're Muggles, Harry. They will only be able to do so much for his development past age 11. Benji will need someone magical to look out for him, to guide him. Ron and the rest of the Weasleys adore him! You know he'd be in excellent hands." (She refrained from saying those hands had helped nurture Harry starting at age 12. They'd helped her, as well, and many times still did).

It was silent as he stewed, scowling at the legs of the room's sofa. He had no valid reason to disagree with her; Benji _would_ benefit from a magical godparent. Neither of them had wizarding family to rely on if they were to meet misfortune and their son would be pointedly alone, much like Harry had been. And he could not even argue that he hated or disliked Ron with conviction! The main reason he felt resistance at all was because he was not close with the red head and had not been for over two years. How would that work? It couldn't, right? Ron would obviously know it had been Hermione's doing…. She, meanwhile, peered at him in a baited fashion.

"If you don't want it to be Ron, would you consider someone else?," she posed, trying a different approach, "Maybe -"

"He's the only one I'd tolerate." Harry swiftly interjected. The Muggleborn's eyes widened at the assertion, recognizing his words seemed like possible agreement in New Harry talk. Could she hope? Had he yielded so readily?

"So, will you consider having Ron as Benji's godfather?" she wondered in a mild voice. Seconds ticked by during which the sound of Benji shaking the rattle with vehemence filled their ears.

"I'll think about it," mumbled Harry.

As it so happened, the most harrowing conversation Harry and Hermione had at Grimmauld occurred by way of Harry, rare in that he was hardly ever the initiator for such discussions. Guilt had been the principal cause for him to address the issue with Hermione and he’d wrestled with himself over whether or not to talk about it for weeks. The panicked side of him wanted to never broach this topic with her and argued that it was utterly unnecessary, that it would only make things worse between them and demolish the significant progress they’d made in the preceding months. The risk was enormous, and the panicked side almost won, but Harry knew that she deserved to hear it, even if it would end badly. (It seemed her habit of forcing him into honest conversations had rubbed off). 

“I need to tell you something,” he mumbled. He was seated on the floor, staring at the carpet in Benji’s room. Hermione looked up from placing a book back in its place on the shelf while her thoughts about feeding the baby halted.

“Okay...” she said, drawing out the word. She read his defeated body language and immediately felt hesitant. The wizard sighed and rubbed his eyes. It took some time before he spoke.

“I struggled to accept that you were gone, when you were in Canada. It ate at me most of the time. I didn’t know how to handle it and I… I just _needed_ to find you. I had to. That’s what it felt like,” he explained. The brunette was looking at him seriously with her hands held in front of her, earnest to know where this was going. 

“When it got to be too much, I did something about it. Obviously, I couldn’t go to anyone you know so I… I got help. From an ex-Auror I met through a, then, acquaintance,” continued Harry. 

“What do you mean ‘help’?” Hermione questioned, feeling her heart start to plummet. 

“He was meant to find out where you were. I hired him and he worked for a few months. He… he tracked your parents, at their practice and at home -- that’s how he found out you were living in Canada. He did the same with Ron sometimes, too, and that’s how he discovered you were visiting Britain. He’s the one who actually told me you were pregnant, because he saw you when you came back that last time.” 

The silence was deafening and prolonged. Harry, embarrassed and with a racing heart, did not dare to bring his eyes up and peer at her, nor did he feel a desire to. This was one instance where he was fine with how quiet it was. 

“I wondered how you knew I was back. I thought you’d been watching the house yourself,” the witch finally commented in a hollow tone, “And when I asked you how you knew, you said it didn’t matter.” His face scrunched and his heart maintained its wild pace. He wanted to melt into the floor. 

“I…” 

He what? He was sorry he had stalked her? A mere sorry for _that_? It sounded ridiculous, and although it was more complicated than that and he had similar, complicated feelings, he did not know what to say.

“I think Benji and I will leave early today.” (This came out in the same, hollow tone).

Harry swallowed then gave a feeble nod in understanding. He was unsurprised by this declaration. She had been there for less than two hours but he would have been shocked if she’d stayed after his revelation. He listened to her move around the room and held his breath when she brushed past him to retrieve Benji from the crib. She exited the room without acknowledging him further and his eyes never once left the carpet.

Hermione avoided Grimmauld and refused communication with Harry for three days. She was shaken and outraged, and felt supremely violated. The man had _stalked_ her! He’d paid someone to stalk her. The fear specifically attached to Harry she’d felt so often in the past hit her hard the first day but she was livid by the second day; invading her privacy in such a dire way was precisely what Harry would have done all those months ago. However, on the third day, Hermione’s state of mind shifted. She recognized she had every right to feel the way she did yet remembered that she was no angel herself. Hiding the majority of her pregnancy from him was the most egregious act she’d committed and, morally, seemed no better than what he’d admitted. And that was the thing -- he _had_ admitted to it. Harry could have taken the truth to his grave without her being any the wiser but he’d confessed.

Viewing this as another indication of change, Hermione fire called him on day four to invite him over. He consented and arrived after lunch with an unpleasant look on his face. He’d had three days to be caught in his thoughts like she had and one of those thoughts centered around his distress that he’d been unable to see or hear about Benji. It’d been distinct enough that Harry had to take a broom ride the preceding day to release the pent up emotional energy. He wanted to say that she could not _do_ that to him now that Benji was here. She could not vanish for days on end and give him no knowledge of his child’s well being! Instead, he waited for Hermione to start dialogue. 

“You need to know that I absolutely hate what you did. It made me feel sick,” she commenced, drawing in breath, “I can’t change it, however, and I realize that you at least told me the truth. _I_ didn’t tell you that I was pregnant, that you were going to be a father, so I can’t punish you for what you did. I’m… I’m sorry I kept Benji away from you. I won’t do it again just because _I’m_ upset.” 

The wizard, who was sitting on the sofa and holding the baby, was taken aback by what she said. He took a bit of time to process her words and form his reply while he bounced a steadily giggling Benji on his knee. 

“Thank you,” he murmured, “I’m sorry too.” 

“Are there any other surprises, Harry? Have you done anything else I should know about?”

Hermione sounded tired and rather desperate. If there were any other emotional blows she needed to take, she wanted to hear about them now and not down the line when she could be thrown off course.

“No. That… that was the last.” Harry attested. 

“Then _and_ now, I hope,” she said. He looked into her eyes and nodded somberly.

It was a mellow visit for the trio that day but it ended well, and Hermione couldn’t help but hope that, perhaps now, they could finally stop taking two steps forward and five steps backward.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we have the last chapter of Burst, coming soon after chapter 11 like I promised. The story took longer to complete than I originally thought (what else is new) but I am glad to be able to wrap it up. As always, much gratitude to everyone who read, enjoyed, and supported the fic. 
> 
> With that being said, there is an IMPORTANT disclaimer: go back to chapter 11 and read the end because I added a new scene. I did this to even out the last two chapters to make them equal in length, so if you want to read a little bit of new plot, go back and re-read the end of chapter 11!

Important conversations were not the only thing that occurred between Harry and Hermione as she and Benji frequented Grimmauld on a regular basis. Moments bloomed between them that were fairly heady, and they became obvious the more they happened.

She ran into him once and he held her waist longer, and more tightly, than was necessary to steady her. He caught her staring at him a couple times and she blushed and looked away when she realized she'd been caught. He watched her hips or watched her fiddle with her voluminous hair and would get bouts of longing. (Longing that would result in him gripping his shaft in his hand on some nights and tugging at the recollections of her). This was far from the first time the wizard and witch had been transfixed by one another but the frequency of it was only increasing and serving reminders of how things had been between them two years ago.

Just as the emotional tension between the pair was stabilizing, a different kind of tension was (re)emerging. A tension they did their best to avoid acknowledging or discussing with each other, but a tension that would not be ignored and boiled over regardless.

The culmination of it came one afternoon when the two parents had just put the infant down for a nap. Benji put up a fight and they'd chosen to tag team him to get him to submit faster, an endeavor that had taken 15 minutes and the help of a pacifier. Once they left the bedroom and closed the door behind them, Hermione sighed and looked at Harry with a tired smile on her face. (Benji was quite the handful when he wanted to be). They gazed at one another for a stint before she opened her mouth to comment on their son, but her mouth did not get the opportunity to form a sentence because she found that _his_ mouth had suddenly slanted over it.

Hermione gasped as she was backed against the nearest wall and led into an ardent kiss.

Harry paid her shock no mind. It did not stop his lips from moving against hers with vigor. He did not know what would, in honesty; it had been over a year since he'd had her this way and the solace was so sweet. Accordingly, it was made even sweeter when she reacted and _embraced_ him, kissing him in return!

He groaned loudly and pressed into her more, hastily grabbing her left breast. Relief. He felt relief and no small amount of desire at the weight in his palm. It was more than a handful. Hermione's breasts had always been full but pregnancy had made them simply big. Her chest had hypnotized him since her return to England all those months ago and he was able to do something about it _at last_. Harry groped her in a greedy manner as he pushed his tongue into her mouth and forced her to accommodate him, which made her moan weakly while she clutched the front of his shirt.

The brunette's mind was churning. She had forgotten how domineering he was when physically intimate, how much it was able to turn her on. It threw her for a loop. The whole ordeal did, actually. He'd ambushed her with his body, catching her totally off guard, and here she was actively participating. Perhaps it was rote memory: responding to Harry's physical advances. And why wouldn't it be? She'd had a lot of practice in the past and it _did_ feel good. (It always had). But when the haze in Hermione's mind began to dissipate and she could think a little more objectively, she put a stop to it.

"No. No," she stated, wrenching her face away from his, "Harry, stop!" Her hands came up and pushed him back from her. He stumbled once but went, gaping at her. Well, that had ended as quickly as it started.

"What was that?," she demanded, beginning to look upset, "Why did you snog me?"

"What do you mean why?" Harry inquired.

" _Why_ , Harry? Exactly what I said! You… we… why?!"

She seemed annoyed and confused and that concerned him. Did she not want this? (Not want him)? Had he misconstrued things between them? Had he just made a serious mistake? Feeling nervous and worried now, he latched onto the premiere emotion he used to mask most others, the one that did not make him feel vulnerable.

"Why does _anybody_ snog someone? I wanted to! I-I've wanted to for _weeks_!" he exclaimed in frustration. Hermione drew her head back.

"I miss that! I miss being able to be close with you like that! Gods, it's been so long! A-And we spend all this bloody time together, and it's brilliant seeing you take care of Benji. Seeing you be a mum... which you're great at. You're a great mother." Harry added, both hands perched in his hair. He seemed to have run out of steam because his sentences lost their ferocity with each one and he stopped speaking.

The silence was somewhat awkward and he avoided making eye contact with her (a habit for him, as of late). It was not until she stepped to him and touched his cheek that he turned his attention on her again.

"What you just said means a lot to me. Thank you," Hermione softly remarked, staring straight at him, "Things are better between us than I expected, much better, but I don't know if we are _there_ yet, if we're in a stable enough place to..." She gestured between them with her free hand.

"You haven't thought about it?" he pondered.

"It's not that I haven't. I just think maybe we're not ready to relive that part of our past."

Harry noticed that her fingers were warm on his cheek and, only moments ago, they'd been pawing at his chest. Hmph.

"Maybe." And while his lips may have uttered what sounded like agreement, his eyes blazed as if to say otherwise.

It was quite difficult for both of them to stop thinking about their little act of passion, although they did not openly discuss it again. Hermione shared it with no one and preferred it that way, reasoning it was no one's business. She did not want to hear opinions when she was still trying to determine what to make of it. Nevertheless, she was saved from being too consumed by it because her resolution to return to work quickly presented itself. When Benji was five and a half months old she received confirmation that she was accepted back into her Ministry department, the official inquiry of which she'd made a week prior (with an updated vita). It was good news, of course, but knowing there were only two weeks until her start date made Hermione anxious. She was stepping into the public eye again in addition to leaving Benji four days out of the week, and both things seemed scary.

What did give the young woman solace was her confidence in Harry's ability to care for the baby while she was working. And since she did ask to have Wednesdays off, a request she was easily granted, she could give him his own day off if he needed or wanted it. Two days with Benji, a day to rest, two more with Benji, then the weekend. Molly was also an option if Harry needed a break, something Hermione wanted to be realistic about since this would be the first time he looked after Benji by himself for extended periods of time. As it were, the dark haired wizard had questions of his own regarding her reintegration into work life, and he asked one in particular during a lunch outing the little family took.

It was their first, true excursion with Benji outside of walks. They chose to eat lunch at a nondescript but tasty restaurant somewhere in Kent, comfortable that they would not be immediately mobbed but prudent enough to understand they would still be recognized, and to cast appropriate spells to help with privacy. Benji seemed to love being out, bundled in a miniature coat for the February weather, and their server was enamored with him. It was a pleasant trip, all in all.

"Are you going to remain with your parents now that you're returning to work?" Harry questioned after their food was set in front of them.

"Yes, for a bit longer," Hermione answered, exhaling, "It won't be permanent. Babies take up a lot of room and I don't want to take over my parent's house anymore than I already have. We need our own space." She looked at Benji gabbing to himself in the highchair. There was a pause before Harry blurted out:

"You can live with me."

This grabbed her attention effortlessly and she peered at him sharply.

"Excuse me?"

"You can come live with me. You and Benji can move into Grimmauld," He was staring at her and appeared resolute and nervous, like he was making himself get the words out before he filtered himself, "There's more than enough space. He already has a room and you could take one, a-and it makes no sense for you to waste money on a place if you don't have to. And you won't have to drop him off, or I won't have to pick him up, before you go to work each day. He'll already be with me."

Hermione blinked multiple times. Live with Harry. _Live_ with him? She did not know if she was ready for such a step but it was not an inherent, poor idea. There _were_ benefits. She would save money but, much more than that, Benji would be able to live with his father, which would be wonderful for their (already solid) bond. She would also have equal help in taking care of him on a daily basis. Conversely, the risks of the idea were prominent. There were still problems between Hermione and Harry - he still struggled psychologically - and she was unsure if it would be healthy for her or Benji to be around him 24/7. It would also further blur boundaries between the pair, boundaries that were already jumbled, battered, and ambiguous (if their snog was an indication). Boundaries that needed to be clearly defined.

"Crookshanks can come, too." Harry mumbled after the quietness dragged on. He was poking at his food in a moody manner and the Muggleborn realized she had not said anything yet.

"That's… that's generous of you," she mentioned, clearing her throat. She held a bit of bread from her sandwich to Benji's mouth and he eagerly accepted it with a "mmmm."

"But?"

"No buts. I'll think about it," she attested, mimicking the sentiment he'd verbalized in regard to the godparent issue. He peered at her, seeming to realize this, before he nodded once in agreement.

There was so much to contemplate, so many changes happening in Hermione's life on an individual level and as a mother and co-parent. Restarting an old job, potentially asking Ron to be godfather to her child, facing down leaving her parents' home (again), evaluating whether or not she could live with Harry(!), witnessing her baby hurdle toward the six month mark. Six months! Benji had been in the world - out of the sanctuary of her body - for half a year already. It was crazy to realize, especially because some days when she watched his perfect, small, sleeping face, she still had trouble believing he had come from her, that he was real.

The storm of changes kept Hermione's mind preoccupied the majority of the time in her two remaining weeks of freedom. The brunette discussed diving back into her career and moving with her friends and parents but she intentionally did not discuss Harry's proposition with anyone but the man himself, and even that was scarce. She saw the advantages for Benji of making Grimmauld their home but she could not bring herself to definitively say yes or no; something was missing to sway her one way or the other. And of course, there was another thing related to Harry that Hermione did not share with the people in her life: their ill-timed making out. That was also among the topics that kept her mind preoccupied, though this one she tended to think about when she was alone at night… sometimes filled with want.

When she moved back to England on the tail end of her pregnancy, she would have _never_ expected or even dreamed that she would be here with Harry in six months' time. That they would seek physical comfort from each other once more and she would not reprimand him or outright refuse him of it, although Hermione had been honest in voicing her uncertainty over their readiness. The chasm between them had seemed impossible to overcome six months ago, and her main concern then was whether he could be a stable father. Now, however, there was that familiar tension between them and she did not know what to do with it. (Shouldn't she know better)?

It seemed congruous, then, when the pair crossed a major line from which they could not come back. Congruous but disconcerting, all the same. Highly disconcerting - for Hermione.

On Friday, three days before she was set to jump back into the work fray, she and Benji traveled to Grimmauld in the afternoon to see Harry. It was a lively day for Benji as he had a lot of fun playing and interacting with his parents, yet he was still susceptible to multiple sleep cycles. He had just fallen asleep for a second time when Hermione had originally hoped to take them home, but she did not want to disturb him due to the chance (and past experience) that it would be arduous to get him to return to sleep at her house. Consequently, the witch chose to stay over (at Harry's prompting) because she knew that it would be the early morning when Benji woke next - whether that be 2AM or 7AM. While it rarely happened, it was not their first time spending the night at Grimmauld, but it _was_ the first time that saw Harry in Hermione's guest room at midnight, re-enacting the physical display they'd engaged in weeks prior outside Benji's room.

For the life of her, she could not recall how they'd ended up tangled together on the bed, discarding clothing at a staggering rate and frantically kissing like the world would end if they stopped. Their interactions that day - specific actions they took and words they spoke, non-verbal communication that passed between them - none of it was clear in helping her decipher how they'd gotten to this point. However, Hermione also did not believe that Harry had plotted for it to happen, even with his suggestion that they stay over. There had been none of the signs from the past that indicated he _was_ scheming: no trickery, or sense that things were too good to be true. No overly nice, compliant Harry.

It was boggling. The reasons for it were just a cluster of confusion, but what _was_ clear were the sensations he made her feel (which made logic take an abrupt back seat). And he was right - it _had_ been so long. So long since the witch had been kissed or touched or pleased, and Harry seemed determined to deliver. Accordingly, when his efforts turned to her chest, she took a pause.

"No," Hermione breathed out, lifting his mouth from her heaving breast, "I, I'll…" She suddenly looked self-conscious. She wanted to say that she would leak or lactate from the stimulation but could not bring herself, yet he knew precisely what she struggled to verbalize.

"I don't care," the wizard rasped out. He wanted to say her breasts were beautiful and not merely because of the way they looked, but because of their purpose: because they nourished the pair's child.

Harry did not have the capacity at that moment to be so poetic, conversely, so he sucked lightly at a peak (eliciting a gasp from her) before quickly changing direction and going south. Hermione's eyes widened and she cried out, her hands instantly latching onto his head. It was just like her first sex dream of him during pregnancy and it seemed astonishing that it was actually happening, further solidified by the fact that she could have sworn he started speaking Parseltongue. She made non-stop noise the entire time he worked, her eyes glued on the ceiling and fingers digging in black hair, and when he nudged her over the edge, her back arched off the bed and she shut her eyes in numbing ecstasy. The brunette was still reeling when Harry hovered back over her, panting and peering at her with an untamed expression. He kissed her hungrily and rubbed himself against her center, the sensitivity of which caused her to mewl.

Hermione's eyes were still closed when she felt him press into her and the feeling of fullness caught her off guard, forcing her eyes open and forcing a noisy moan from his mouth. She gasped and clutched his shoulders when he gave a firm push to be even farther inside but then he stopped, cursing into her neck at the feel of being enveloped. Her heart was hammering away due to the chain of events, and during the pause a blaring alarm went off in her mind.

"Charm! The charm!" she exclaimed, trying wildly to get her wand within her hand. This could _not_ be like the last time they had sex. (Benji could not gain a sibling from this encounter)!

Harry, consequently, responded and snatched her wand from somewhere, holding it over her abdomen while he mumbled the contraceptive spell. They gazed at one another while he did so, relief and gratitude flooding Hermione, but he dropped her wand when it was done and instinct took over.

The sex was not paced or gentle. It was not love making. It was unrestrained and full of emotion.

He reveled in watching her breasts jump in time with his movement. He pressed her for the last time a man made her orgasm, to which she revealed that it was him and he felt possessive satisfaction. And, when he reached his end after making her orgasm a second time, he snarled out his climax, claiming her mouth with his and thrusting into her roughly as he rode it out.

There was little talking afterward while they recovered and got their bearings. Perhaps surprisingly, Harry did not leave and retreat to his own room, but the lack of discussion between them triggered Hermione. This is how it had been in the past. Their bodies would come together for pleasure but there'd be such few conversations that followed, and the ones that did rarely made her feel good. A part of her understood that she could very well open her mouth and speak about what they'd just done but a larger part of her froze, stuck in reliving their history. She stayed awake and ruminated and worried over their actions after he'd fallen asleep, and she was only jerked out of bed (and her mind) at 2:30AM when she heard Benji's cries through the baby monitor. Hermione rushed to tend to him and returned to her room an hour later once he was asleep again after food and time spent with his mother.

The Muggleborn hesitated to get into the bed for a bit, staring at Harry's prone form and letting her anxiety rise to the level it had been before seeing Benji. When she managed it, however, she was met with definite surprise when she felt Harry contour his body around hers and pull her into a snug embrace. (He had hardly ever been one to cuddle in the past)!

"Benji?" he mumbled, only partially coherent from sleep.

"Yes. He's fine," she quietly reported. Hermione licked her lips and studied his slumbering face. He grunted after 15 seconds of silence and she knew he was unconscious immediately thereafter. She watched him for a little longer as though he were a film, and soon after her thoughts and emotions had calmed enough for her to sleep as well.

* * *

Hermione's worry rose with her when she and Harry woke at 8AM, but it was not persistent enough to keep her from joining him in slow, morning sex that, somehow, actually soothed a portion of her unease. The worry tried to get loud once more when he left the room yet it was squashed when he returned ten minutes later carrying an alert Benji, who squawked merrily in a good morning greeting. She gave a lovely grin at the sight of him and the three of them enjoyed a quarter of an hour together in bed, briefly shielded from the uncertainty (and ramifications) of what she and Harry had done. Unfortunately, their time had to end as Hermione knew she and Benji needed to return home where she would be forced to face a very real source of her anxiety: her parents. The pair left after she exchanged a significant look with Harry and promised that they would speak soon, then she steeled herself for what she would encounter at home.

Hermione's brain went into overdrive the second she stepped foot inside her house. The anxiety came rushing back with a vengeance and was joined by doubt. She walked into the kitchen to prepare to feed Benji his breakfast jar of baby food (fruit, specifically) but she startled when she saw that her mother already occupied the room. The two women stared at each other for a moment, Darla doing so pointedly, before Benji happily cried out and reached for his grandmother. She flashed the boy a wonderful smile and approached the pair, taking him from Hermione's arms.

"Good morning, little prince! Nana is happy to see you too," she greeted. Darla squeezed him then kissed his cheek, earning a laugh from the baby.

"Hello, Mum," the brunette witch said softly. She took off her coat and placed it on the back of a chair before sitting down.

"Good morning, dear." Mrs. Granger's countenance became rather serious once more as her attention swiveled back to her daughter. It was quiet and, during this time, Hermione subconciously avoided eye contact with her mother.

"How was your night?" Darla posed.

"It was fine," came the reply. A pause followed.

"You didn't come home." (Hermione grimaced at the observation).

"Erm, no."

"You didn't let us know," the older woman pointed out.

"I… it wasn't planned. By the time I realized we were going to stay, it was late. I didn't want to disturb you and Dad," the Muggleborn explained. (Hmph. It hadn't been _that_ late).

"You wouldn't have. We knew you were at Harry's but it would have been nice to know you were sleeping over so we wouldn't have waited for you."

Hermione nodded and noted:

"I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize. Just an acknowledgment." Mrs. Granger stated.

It was quiet once more as Benji played with his grandmother's necklace and Hermione still could not look at the other woman. Consequently, this is when Darla hit her limit.

"Hermione," she stated in an authoritative tone. It was obvious she wanted her daughter to meet her gaze so the younger woman had little choice but to comply, "Did something happen?"

The young woman's reflexive glance away and evasive behavior up to this point told Darla much of what she needed to know. They told her if Hermione had truly been distressed or in trouble she would have made contact long ago and not been silent since 2pm the preceding day. They told her that Hermione was not eager to discuss _why_ she had stayed over at Grimmauld unexpectedly, and if she was elusive in discussing the why then it was likely to do with Harry. And Darla was willing to bet her bottom dollar that the why had to do with Hermione _unexpectedly_ falling into Harry's arms, and bed, again after so long.

Mrs. Granger did not know what it was about Harry that her daughter could not stay away from. The pair's history, his status as Benji's father, their frequent time together, trouble shedding old habits, coercion on his part, his physical appeal (because lord knew his attitude was lacking)... she did not know. What she _did_ know was that she felt her heart drop at the realization of what Hermione had likely done. She just wanted to keep her child safe, healthy and whole, and Harry still threatened that even with all his promising change!

The older woman grit her teeth and struggled to keep her expression impassive, although her hold on Benji tightened a little.

"Bunny, _please_ be careful," she implored. Hermione peered at her mother for a second time and saw that she appeared crestfallen yet resigned, which only made her feel sad surprise. She saw no point in pretending that she did not know her mother had figured out why she had not come home; they both knew she was much too smart for that and they both knew each other.

"I didn't think we would actually cross that - _this_ \- line again. I didn't think that _I_ would want to," she murmured. Darla walked over and lifted Hermione's chin with the hand that didn't hold Benji.

"Then think about how you felt in the past when you were at this point with him, when this defined your relationship. Do you want to experience that again? Can you afford to?"

"No I don't and no I can't. But... things aren't exactly the same," She looked at her son then back to her mother, "Harry's not exactly the same."

"That's true. But has he changed enough where you can put yourself in the same position as before and feel good about it?" Mrs. Granger inquired.

The witch removed her face from Darla's grasp and looked away, appearing fairly sullen. As much of a (strong) point as her mother had, there was an obstinate part of her that did not want to hear it, a part that just wanted validation of some sort. This was hard enough.

Hermione spent most of Saturday analyzing the intimacy she and Harry had shared while Benji's Saturday was monopolized by his grandparents. The brunette recognized mid-day that she could not keep an event of this magnitude to herself and _had_ to process it with someone else besides her disapproving mother. She may have hoarded other interactions with Harry to herself but this could not be one of them. She had an unimaginable amount of emotions swirling within her and she would explode if they remained inside and were not expressed. Conversely, there were so few people Hermione _could_ tell. She absolutely would not tell Ron, for obvious reasons. Ginny was not an option either since the young woman's negative feelings about Harry were still so pervasive and liable to prevent her from being objective. Fleur was a toss up - Hermione could envision the gorgeous, French woman understanding the mishap but also see her pitying her, which she would not be able to stomach. Luna, however, was always a wonderful listener with unnerving insight, and Debbie, of course, never judged. She could speak to the two blondes about last night… _had_ to. Yes, she would go to them.

Was she wrong for what she had done? Was she foolish, stupid? And if she were wrong, why did a stubborn part of her not regret it? (And maybe even prize it)? Was there something _wrong_ with her? Hermione posed these questions to Debbie via telephone and to Luna on Sunday during an impromptu trip to the park with Benji (that required _Muffliato_ to protect the sensitive nature of their conversation). Both blondes said it was understandable that old feelings resurfaced and pushed her to sleep with Harry, and assured her that she did not have to think badly of herself for doing so.

"He's your son's dad. You've spent so much of your time with him for months. And you're a healthy 21 year old who needs sex." Debbie offered.

"There is something very real and extraordinary between you two. It doesn't seem like it can be broken, not even by Harry." Luna claimed, playing with Benji on the blanket she'd conjured.

On the other hand, both friends asserted that she needed to talk to Harry about this momentous turn for them and what it meant and Hermione agreed. They questioned what she wanted from this and, like Darla, pondered if she would feel safe or good going down this path once more. They asked her what she'd learned from last time.

Hermione slept poorly Sunday night due to the anticipation of beginning work the following day and speaking to Harry in the early evening. She was taking Benji to Grimmauld in the morning before she went to the Ministry and, after she was off, she would return to pick him up _and_ have a discussion with his father. (They'd agreed to both during a quick fire call earlier that evening). After all the thought she'd given the issue, Hermione felt comfortable with what she had to tell Harry. She did not feel overly confident about it, and there was still a notable amount of confusion, but she knew it was right.

Thus, after an action packed first day that felt like a typhoon, she was happy to retreat to Grimmauld to see her baby after a full day of separation. Hermione gracefully accepted tea from Kreacher and cuddled Benji on the couch, and attentively listened to Harry share what the day had been like for them. He claimed Benji was perplexed and upset by her absence that morning for a solid 45 minutes before calming and being relatively content for the remainder of the day; she, in turn, shared that a hefty portion of her time had been warding off questions, spectators and gossipers, which had felt like the real work.

"They asked about Benji, of course. And you," she reported, "I told them he was healthy and happy, for which we are grateful, and I left it at that."

They chatted for 30 minutes before Hermione remembered the time and her desire to be home so she could eat dinner and spend some time with her parents. Taking it as her cue, she dived into what happened between them on Friday night and got to the heart of it very quickly. Got to the conclusions she had drawn.

"I don't regret what we did. It was shocking, yes, but I liked being with you like that again because I feel close to you when we are. To me, it's a way you show me what I mean to you. And before, it was the _only_ way I knew because you were just so…"

"Fucked up?" Harry wryly suggested. She gave him a sympathetic smile.

"But I need rules, Harry. I don't want to be in that position or have to feel that way with you ever again, like I did before I left. I don't want to question what we have or what we are," the young woman informed, "I can't have a physical relationship with you unless we are _in_ a relationship. Unless we are officially together. I have to have that rule, for _any_ man."

He knew better than to ask for the relationship she mentioned. He was not in the mental space for one (he had not been for years) and he did not _want_ one at this point in his life, but he knew that if he did want it and he were ready, Hermione would be the woman he sought. However, that left Harry to wonder if _she_ wanted a relationship (with someone else)... and it made his heart freeze. He could not give that to her now - would she look elsewhere?

"Do you want a relationship with someone?" he inquired in a subdued tone. She took a moment to answer.

"Eventually. Yes," she admitted, "But you understand what I'm saying about us?"

No more sudden snogs against walls, no more nights of unplanned, unbridled sex. No more touching her… not unless (until) he could be what she needed. Harry sighed and then uttered:

"I understand."

And this time, there was no fire in his eyes to contradict his words.

And so the weeks passed. Benji continued thriving, Hermione got used to a career and life in society once more, and Harry carried out his fatherly duties with skill. The trio developed a new routine that centered around Grimmauld and the Granger home: Benji would go to the townhome in the morning on the days his mother worked, Hermione would get him after her shift and stay for half an hour to visit, and Harry would go to the Granger's on Sundays and for some time on Wednesdays. They would sometimes take outings on Wednesday or during the weekends and Benji appreciated it most whenever he had both parents with him. Communication between Hermione and Harry remained candid and propitious and, while the physical tension between them still flared every so often, they had not acted on it since she'd explicitly drawn her line in the sand regarding the matter.

That is not to say that _everything_ improved for the little family. Harry was still surly or standoffish some days, and certain Wednesdays and Sundays he would not see his son or Hermione at all and keep completely to himself. Additionally, if the brunette witch scheduled a visit with someone on one of her days off, he was likely not to be found (although he could sit silently in the same vicinity as Ron for some time). Hermione had expected this, conversely, and could not begrudge Harry. She knew certain traits of his were much more embedded in his psyche and unlikely to change without professional help, and as much as she wanted that for him she could only ask so much. And even with his persisting, internal struggles that kept him isolated on particular days or unpleasant to be around on others, he was always there to embrace their child when every Monday morning rolled around.

This bond between father and son is what Hermione was most happy to see and she was not one to shy away from telling Harry her thoughts about it. Coincidentally, Benji was seven and a half months old when she accidentally stumbled upon a remarkable moment between him and Harry. It was a moment that was private and she instinctively knew not to interrupt, but a moment from which she could not turn away.

It was a Wednesday so she was not scheduled to be at the Ministry, but it was an unusual Wednesday in that the trio was at Grimmauld instead of the Granger home like they typically were. Hermione had been in the kitchen pumping breast milk into bottles for Benji's next couple feedings before making her way upstairs to the baby's room where she knew the two males to be. Accordingly, when she heard Harry speaking to Benji as though having a conversation, she stopped in her tracks and listened.

"Are you ready for Sunday, then? Do you know what's happening that day?" the wizard posed. Benji chattered in reply and Hermione smiled fondly. (He was such a responsive boy and she was proud).

"And who told you that? Mr. Cow?," Harry continued, "Pfft. You have to be careful with him; he likes to fib." She heard Benji laugh delightedly and peeked into the room as stealthily as she could for a visual. The baby was lying on his stomach surrounded by a few toys, and Harry, who was also lying on his stomach, had just waved a small, stuffed cow in his face. She pulled back and her smile widened.

"We're actually getting you a godfather on Sunday. We're going to ask Ron," he revealed, "You like him, don't you?" Benji "ooooed" for an answer.

"You do, eh? Hmm. You see him often enough so I reckon that makes sense," the wizard noted.

He, Hermione, and Benji had plans to meet Ron in Hogsmeade in four days when the adults would ask the red head to accept the honored title of godparent. Ron did not know this was the reason for the visit but he knew Harry was attending, and based on Hermione's reports of the other man's progress (and spending irregular time in the other man's presence himself), he was unsure about the meeting but mostly intrigued.

"Your mum was happy when I agreed to it last week," Harry notified, watching the infant snatch Mr. Cow, "Although, for some reason, we ended up having a small row, too, and I can't even remember why. I _do_ remember that I started it - the row. It's almost always me. It should've been good news for her and I mucked it up."

Benji examined the stuffed animal for a few seconds then gazed at his father, jabbering off another reply. Hermione, for her part, gave a reflective, sad frown at Harry's words.

"You know, when you're older you may want to punch me in the face for how many times I've made your mum upset. Made her sad or angry... And it's stupid - _I'm_ stupid - because she doesn't do that to me, she doesn't make me feel that way. It's the opposite, in fact," he commented. The witch felt her breath catch.

"Your mum was one of the very first people to show me love, love that I can remember. I was 11 and in terrible need of it. She gave me my first hug. She loves me more than she should, even now. She has every right to hate me and she doesn't," Harry attested, furrowing his brow, "And I've treated her like… I've been _vile_ to her, after the war. Like she was an enemy and not someone who's been there for me since I was 11 bloody years old!"

His face dropped against the rug and he growled, clenching his fists. Benji lost interest in Mr. Cow (who had been in his mouth) in favor of Harry's change in behavior and, gurgling, reached out and pet his head. Hermione, meanwhile, was fighting the water in her eyes from overflowing.

It was silent for a bit before Harry chuckled at the feel of Benji's petting. He lifted his head and smiled faintly at his son.

"You're a combination of us, you know. I hope you get her loving nature… I think you will. And I hope _my_ ugly parts don't touch you, the parts that Voldemort would probably be proud of," he remarked. He sighed heavily and Hermione felt it in her heart, just like she felt herself lose the battle against her tears.

There was a long pause.

"I hope I can show her real love again someday. Though, I was never really good at it when we were at school, or even letting her know that I appreciated her, so maybe it's that I hope I can show her real love for the first time. I dunno." Harry mumbled, playing listlessly with one of the infant's toys. An "mmfff!" came from Benji while his mother dabbed furiously at her eyes.

"You think so? Well, your mum wants me to get mental Healing… that could be a way I show her I care," the young man explained, "She says if I get it she'd feel better about moving into Grimmauld; she won't consider moving _unless_ I do it, actually."

"I've fought with her about it. A part of me _hates_ the idea and thinks it's complete rubbish - that it's a waste of time - but, I… I think I might," Harry said, rubbing a hand across his face, "For you, of course, because it means you'd be able to live here. But for your mum, too, because she has to put _up_ with me… and because she deserves better. And I s'pose for me, as well. After three years, I'm rather tired of living this way."

Hermione's hands were on her stomach and she was taking silent breaths in and out, quite overwhelmed by the grief, hope, and relief she had over what Harry had gone through, what he'd put _her_ through, and over what might be. For them, yes, but more importantly, Benji.

She heard their child give a cheerful screech as he was wont to do and heard another mild laugh come from Harry, and as she wiped away tears and released one last shaky breath, it was practically impossible not to smile.


End file.
